


SHUT ME UP

by DarthDre, rosalynbair



Category: Bowers Gang - Fandom, IT (2017), IT - Stephen King, The Bowers Gang - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Bowers Gang - Freeform, Bowers Gang Bandmates AU, Bowers Gang Modern AU, Cigarettes, F/M, Mind Failure, Multi, heavy drug use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-04-21 08:47:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 86,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14281296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthDre/pseuds/DarthDre, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosalynbair/pseuds/rosalynbair
Summary: Mind Failure was founded by the Bowers Gang from Derry, Maine. After going through numerous rhythm guitarists, they’re left to find yet another replacement. Tempers clash and personalities collide when the new guitarist is not only a female, but just as reckless as Patrick. Will Y/N end up becoming another stepping stone in the band’s lineup? Or will they find a middle ground to make it work?





	1. Bang Your Head

Gone were the days of playing recklessly in Vic’s run down garage and fighting with the neighbors about the loud, and frustratingly fast music.

The four of them; Belch, Vic, Henry and, much to the executive’s disdain, Patrick, all sat in large - overly cushioned chairs across a large table from the uptight music label CEO. Johnny Ray, their manager, worked tirelessly to get them this meeting, it was miracle they even agreed to it. Especially given Mind Failure’s very… colorful reputation.

Johnny looked over at the boys he had worked with for the past two years. Hoping and praying to any god that would listen to him that they wouldn’t find some way to fuck it all up. Belch and Vic mulled over the contracts, which were heavily revised by Johnny’s on-call lawyer to fit their needs. At least they took an interest in the business aspect of the music industry. It was the other two, the ones that gazed hatefully at the CEO, that he was worried about.

Belch removed his hat as he read through the multi-page document, scanning the highlighted phrases and terms as he wiped the small sheen of sweat away from his head that had collected under his hat.

Henry, thankfully, wasn’t being too much of an asshole today. Even if it was only because he was nursing a very terrible hangover from a long night out - he didn’t even return to their shared house until an hour before they were going to leave for the meeting. All Johnny had to do was get him another beer, and his cigarettes so he could be in a civilized mood.

Patrick, however, fidgeted with his standard BIC lighter as he tapped his combat boot clad foot against the shiny floor, the metal toe plate making a loud tap that echoed throughout the board room. His dark eyes never left the CEO’s sitting figure, he had that fearful predatory look about him, the way he always did when he was about to do something completely out of line, and downright frightening.

Johnny nudged Vic roughly with his elbow to get his attention, Vic’s eyes immediately landed on Patrick’s face, seeing the gears turning in his head as he tried to formulate a plan to terrorize the man they would soon - hopefully - call their boss. Vic immediately shoved the stack of paperwork towards him, in an attempt to distract him. Patrick pushed it back towards Vic, not bothering to even glance at it, “It’s fine.”

“Pat, you need to read over it.” Vic pressed, determined to distract him from ruining their only chance at getting a record deal - and a headlining tour.

Patrick scoffed, leaning back in his chair, his body easily showing how annoyed and bored he was. “What the fuck for? We’re getting what we wanted, I don’t want to waste my time reading over this bullshit, that’s what this sorry ass motherfucker is here for,” he said, motioning to Johnny dismissively, the chipping black nail polish and pale blue veins popping under the fluorescent lighting. “It’s why we hired him, why we pay him.”

Johnny sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose roughly, trying his best not to lose his temper in front of Tristan Roberts, the CEO of Empire records, “You’re right, that is what I’m here for,” he agreed, taking the paperwork from Vic, “And I have looked it all over, Vic and Reggie have looked it over and are both satisfied with the terms, and in order for this to go through, you all need to sign it.”

Henry now eyed Johnny skeptically, “How do we know you’re not going to end up fucking us?”

Belch groaned, rubbing his forehead, “Hen, you know he has as much riding on this as we do.”

“He’s right,” Vic agreed.

Johnny looked from Patrick to Henry, watching their reactions. Henry raised his eyebrow at Patrick. The shaggy, bed head haired musician, however, just smirked again. Johnny began to feel nervous at Patrick’s indifference to the situation, he kept flicking his lighter on and off, on and off, on and off. The click of the lighter was the only sound that echoed throughout the room. Beads of sweat began to form on the nervous manager’s forehead, the room suddenly felt hot as all eyes in the room were on the blond haired boy eyeing the pyromaniac.

All of them watching, and waiting for what was going to happen. Patrick quickly lit a cigarette in the office, taking a few drags as he lounged back in the leather chair, “This is what you fuckers all wanted, we did what he had to do to get here, now sign the fucking papers so I can go and get my dick sucked.”

Patrick acted like he had a say in the band, and he did, to an extent. If only, because he was the mastermind behind the music. Henry, however, was the one who called the shots, and since they started Mind Failure, his relationship with Patrick blossomed into one of dangerous antics. But, Henry always took what Patrick had to say into consideration.

Johnny knew the questionable things that the two men did to get where they were, and he knew what would happen to him if he dared to leave and open his mouth. Their potential for greatness kept him around, but his fear of them assured that he would never leave.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of thick and anxious silence, Henry sighed, “Someone hand me a fucking pen.”

Johnny quickly jumped at the opportunity to distract the men, handing Henry a heavy black metal pen from inside his blazer.

Henry scribbled his name on it, followed by Vic, Belch, and then it was slid down the table to Patrick. Their messy scrawls all showing the CEO exactly who and what they were. What their life had been through. No one understood how to read a person from their signature better than him. He could even tell if they would go far in the industry by how hard or soft the ink was, or how loopy or slanted the letters were.

Never one to pay attention to the fine print, Patrick held the pen close to the piece of paper. Just as he was about to sign, he squinted his eyes as he skimmed the piece of paper quickly, “The fuck is this?”

Johnny looked over to the line he pointed at, he was hoping this would be something he overlooked, knowing very well that the band didn’t do too well with outsiders, “You need another band mate, Patrick. You can’t play everything on your own.”

“The fuck you mean i can’t?” Patrick scoffed, offended at the prospect that he couldn’t play both rhythm and lead at the same time, “We’re not letting some other fucknut in here.”

Henry nodded his head in agreement, “Not gonna happen Johnny, we started out as four, and I’m not going to let you bring in another fuckwad that this douche,” he motioned towards the CEO, “Wants to bring in.”

Tristan tilted his head, as he was about to retort, Vic quickly jumped in, “Pat, Hen, if this is the way we get the deal, just fucking sign it.”

“So some asshole can come in here and try to run this shit?” Henry shouted, beginning to turn red in the face. “My shit? Do you know how fucking hard I worked to get us here?”

Belch, who was sitting back and watching the whole thing unfurl, finally spoke up, “Henry, that isn’t the case and you know it. Patrick says he can play all the guitars on his own, but, c’mon, with how technical his riffs are, he wouldn’t be able to pull it off. No offense, Patrick,” he added

“Offense taken, shit bag, I don’t want anyone else in Mind Failure.”

Patrick took a drag from his cigarette he had lit, tendrils of smoke came out of his nose as he exhaled. He and Henry exchanged a look, having their silent conversation once again. After a few moments of silence, Henry sighed in defeat, his baby blue eyes trailing over to Vic and Belch, “Fine.”

Patrick’s eyes darkened at Henry’s sudden betrayal, “No.”

“Yes,” Henry retorted, “You can’t do it all by yourself.”

“All of you are a bunch of fucking pussies, you’re giving into–”

Henry grabbed Patrick by his elbow and dragged him into the rooms corner. He lowered his voice as he started to berate the lanky boy, “Shut the fuck up, Patrick, we did what we had to do to get here. This isn’t as sketchy as half the shit we’ve done; it’s just another member. You can’t do the solos and the fucking rhythms by yourself.”

Patrick pursed his lips, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. His breath came in and out deeply as he pondered the matter, “I write the music, I write the songs. No one else. Nothing changes.”

“Nothing changes,” he agreed.

Henry patted Patrick on the shoulder roughly, to assure him that he was the heart and soul of the band, as well as the brains. If they were being completely honest, Patrick was the only one who wrote the music and lyrics for the band. All the rest of the boys had to do was play the music, the creative process was left to Patrick, and only Patrick. No one could work like Patrick did, everything that happened in the band was a process that only Patrick ’s mind could process.

Patrick followed Henry to the table, ignoring Vic and Belch’s stares. He gripped the pen in his hand and quickly scribbled his slanted signature on the crisp white pages. Once it was done, the boys all cheered, with the exception of Patrick, who continued to sulk after throwing the heavy pen onto the table with a loud clunk.

“C’mon man,” Henry whispered to him, “It’s not going to be that bad, I bet most of them will quit within a few months anyways.”

Patrick nodded, putting on his black lensed aviator sunglasses, barely participating in the celebration activities.

I’ll give them all a week at most, he thinks, watching his band mates, his brothers, willingly accept an intruder.

The idea of bringing someone new into his project, someone they didn’t know, made him feel extremely uncomfortable and moody; almost betrayed that they would give up their tight knit pack so easily.

Still, Bowers was right; they got this far and it wouldn’t hurt anyone to make one small sacrifice, besides, what was the worst that could happen?


	2. Deathblow

A warehouse was not the ideal place to hold auditions. Granted, it was a converted warehouse, but the walls still bled with rust and the scent of metal assaulted everyone’s nose. Y/N’s foot tapped against the cracked concrete floor that was stained with old oil and unknown liquids.    
The building seemed to groan with age and history, each blow of the wind outside rattled the window panes and whistled through the rafters. The only other sound in the building other than the breathing of the last few people waiting to audition was the dull sound of an out of tune guitar playing through a monitor in the back room - once an office.    
Y/N inhaled deeply with her cracked phone in her trembling hands. She furrowed her brows, lowering the volume on her phone discreetly so the other people around her wouldn’t hear what she was watching. Even with her earphones plugged in, the chord dangling and hitting the sides of her face with each movement she made, she felt extremely self conscious that the other tryouts were watching her  _ stalk  _ Mind Failure. 

At the moment, she watched in interest as, Danny Lane, the previous rhythm guitarist, went on a monologue about why he left the band, “They were too wild; I was there for the music but I felt like I couldn’t put in any kind of musical input. Patrick was very controlling about that.”

Danny Lane paused for a moment, allowing the reporter to ask, “Mind Failure’s members are known to have a very reckless and dangerous attitude towards life, did you ever feel that you were in danger being in the same room with them?”

The blonde hair man sighed, pushing back his locks to keep the mohawk out of his eyes. His green eyes stared at the floor as he carefully contemplated what he was going to say, his fingers were gripping the fingers of his other hand, wringing them out of nerves. When he finally did answer, he spoke slowly, almost as if he was choosing his words carefully, “I was told many times when I tried out that I didn’t know what I was getting into, I read interviews on their previous guitarists and I thought, ‘Oh these dudes are just pussies,’ but I mean, Mind Failure are who they are, and while some of the members are decent enough, others are bat shit crazy. I love music, and I love their music, but, being around them made me realize that the music wasn’t worth it if I felt that I was constantly in danger, and alienated from a tight knight group of guys.”

“What kind of things did they do that made you feel in danger?”

Danny Lane’s hair now fell over his eye, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, rubbing his chin, “I am not comfortable talking about that, but, I can say that I wouldn’t recommend anyone trying out for that band. It’s not worth it.”

The video ended at a sudden halt, cutting of the rest of the interview. The person who posted it was obviously only interested in what Danny Lane had to say about Mind Failure. 

Intrigued, Y/N fell into the rabbit hole that was Mind Failure, the year’s most popular metalcore band. Prior to being asked to audition for the band, she had never heard of them - though they had won a Kerrang award the year before for best newcomers. She felt slightly terrible for it as she listened to some of their hit tracks - also the first one that showed up on a youtube search, nodding her head and tapping her moss green doc martens on the dirty carpeted floor; the sounds of their songs melding her mind into a dark reality. The angelic voice of the lead singer rang in her ears, making her feel like she was being personally serenaded; his vocals were twisted in with deep guttural growling, and the occasional high pitched squeal. The drums and bass both worked together to give the music the specific oomph necessary to make it not only sound perfectly composed, but powerful. 

However, Y/N felt her body shiver when she listened to the sounds of the guitars, small goosebumps rose on her skin as her mind comprehended the technical leads and melodic rhythm guitars. She knew that this track was Patrick doing both guitar track recordings - information given from another interview she had watched. They had been between guitarists at the time, leaving the dark haired musician to gleefully take over the entire process.

_ This is so good, _ she thought, feeling excitement budding in her chest for fact that she was trying out for this band. 

Still jamming to the Mind Failure’s music on Spotify, she continued to read up on the band’s history, chuckling at their obvious rock star antics, her amusement apparent when she came across a photo of the bassist, Henry Bowers, in handcuffs being pushed up against the hood of a police car, his face bloody and contorted while in mid shout, the long hair of his mullet sticking up in multiple different positions with sweat and blood. The silver blonde haired man next to him being held back by a heavier man. She assumed those two were Vic Criss, the vocalist, and Reggie “Belch” Huggins, the drummer. 

Y/N’s Y/E/C eyes trailed over to the other side of the photo, opposite of him, also in handcuffs and pushed against the other side of the hood was a shaggy haired musician, his lips were pulled up into a large, gleeful snarling smile showing off his bloodied teeth, as if he was laughing at the police officers holding him. His nose was bleeding profusely, drops of the thick, red liquid falling into his mouth. His dark grey eyes were wild as he obviously rode a really exciting wave of adrenaline. 

Y/N’s curiosity won her over; she immediately clicked on the link below the Google image. The link took her to a metal news website, the dark . Her eyes skimmed the article, smirking when she read about Henry Bowers and Patrick Hockstetter facing charges for aggravated assault, battery, property damage, public intoxication, under the influence of an illegal substance, possession of an illegal substance, assault with a deadly weapon, mild sexual harassment, public nudity (Henry was pantsed by Patrick). 

She read the article further, learning that the whole ordeal came to be when two men accused Henry and Patrick of flirting with their dates. 

_ Fucking stupid reason to fight _ , she thought to herself, shaking her head. 

Upon reading more and more articles about the band members, she learned that the photo in question wasn’t their first run in with the law, or the last. As she scrolled further and further down on the news site, she realized there was a pattern; Henry Bowers and Patrick Hockstetter were the ones that always instigated any kind of reckless behavior. 

Y/N didn’t realize how much time she had spent doing research on the band until she felt a tap on her shoulder. She jumped in surprise, yanking her earphones out and immediately getting to her feet, her body tensing up for a fight. She eased up a little when she realized who it was that tapped her, “For fuck’s sake, Johnny, what the fuck did I tell you about touching me?”

Johnny smiled at her, the dimples in his cheeks indenting. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his black slacks, his deep brown eyes gazing at her with an amused expression, “That if I ever did it you would knock me on my ass, cut by dick off and shove it in my mouth so I can literally suck it.”

Y/N eyed him, still trying to collect her composure. Everybody knew that Y/N despised being surprised, and especially touched, and right now, Johnny was mere seconds away from getting his ass kicked. She cleared her throat, quickly glancing around the room, taking note of the other two male musicians waiting for their turn to show off their skills.  “Are they ready for me now?”

He shrugged, an aura of frustration radiating from him, “I gave them a few minutes to take a break; the guys tend to get impatient if they’re sitting still for too long.Tryouts are usually a big hassle for them.”

Y/N rolled her eyes - something she did fairly often at the slightest inconvenience “Right, because sitting and watching people play music is  _ so  _ tiring.”

Johnny chuckled, his lips tilting up into a slight smile despite his annoyance, catching on to her obvious sarcasm, “You try going through twenty tryouts a day every few weeks.”

“No one told them to be assholes,” Y/N retorted., leaning back in the uncomfortable chair.

Johnny’s brows raised, “I see you’ve done your research.”

“I did,” Y/N said, not bothering to hide the fact that she had spent the past three hours stalking them online “I wanted to know more about the band I’m trying out for, and so far, I am both intrigued and mildly irritated, seems like they’re in this for the rock star lifestyle.”

“A common misconception; you will be surprised to know that they love music as much as you do, they have behavioral issues,” he paused, his gaze intensifying as he held her gaze, “Just like you do.”

Y/N tilted her head, scoffing as she feigned offense. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” he said, his voice sarcastic on the delivery, checking his phone for the time, “I gotta head back in there; we’re taking these two others before we get to you.”

“That’s fucking bullshit, Johnny,” Y/N complained, her voice a high whine. She adjusted her weight on the chair, feeling the ache on her tailbone and back. “You’re the one that asked me to come here.”

“And you would have had your spot reserved if you had shown up on time, Y/N. But, you didn’t, therefore, your slot was taken and you got pushed to the back. Maybe you’ll take my advice seriously next time and show up to your own tryout when you’re supposed to,” Johnny said as he typed in a text into his phone, not even bothering to look up with the explanation. 

“For fuck’s sake, Johnny, I had band practice,” Y/N groaned in defense, crossing her arms as and slumping forward in the chair.

His chocolate brown eyes finally looked up from his phone as he addressed her, “You had band practice with a band that you don’t even want to be in Y/N. You’re lucky these guys don’t pay attention to the roster, otherwise you wouldn’t have made it into the running for tryouts.”

Y/N looked up, brows furrowing, taking offense to his words. She was a fucking great guitarist, and in her mind, she was the best. Her elbows pressed against her knees, digging down until there was a discomfort from the pressure, her voice went dark as she asked him, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Johnny quickly caught the attention of one of the other musicians, nodding to the shaggy blonde haired boy that looked like he was fresh from the beaches of California. The musician immediately grabbed his gear as he stood up, waiting for Johnny to lead him into the room in the back, “It means nothing Y/N. Just wait a little longer. Your turn will come.”

He nodded his head to the musician, motioning for him to follow his lead. Y/N still leaned forward on the chair, only lounging back when she dug into her leather jacket for a cigarette and her silver zippo lighter. She inhaled in relief as she took the first drag of nicotine. From the corner of her eye, she could see the other musician stare at her, judging her for daring to light a cigarette in Mind Failure’s warehouse.

Not that it mattered anyways, the whole place was a fucking mess of old beer bottles, cigarette butts, baggies that held traces of cocaine and marijuana. Another cigarette butt in the sea of garbage wouldn’t make a difference.

She sighed deeply, exhaling the smoke from her lungs and out of her nose. The disgust she felt at the how the band lived on their days off was overshadowed by her interest. Their attitudes didn’t bother her, hell, even she had her fair share of felonies under her belt. If anything, it was the music that enticed her into wanting to join their band. A feeling she only started having moments ago when she researched them.

Obviously, Y/N had no prior knowledge to Mind Failure, which was a shame in and of itself because even their older EPs were amazing. So, when Johnny Ray approached her late last night at a show she was playing with her shitty ass band, she was skeptical.

“I think you should try out, you’d be perfect,” Johnny pushed, handing her a bottle of Guinness. 

Y/N chugged down the beer and tossed the empty bottle into the crowd with a wince of disgust  when she was finished with it, not checking to see if it hit anyone, and high key not giving a fuck, “Look, suit, I’m not interested in trying out for your jazz, or blues band. I got my own shit to do, and I have my own band.”

“Of course, but, if we’re being honest, your band sucks. And the only reason why you get a crowd like this is because you’re hot, and slightly because of your skill. The rest of your bandmates are shitty musicians, and you have so much potential to be better,” he said, banging his hand against the bar counter to make his point, “With us, you could get there.”

“I told you, dick, I’m not interested in--”

“It’s not a fucking jazz band, and I’m not a band member; I’m the manager,” he informed, as if that would make a difference, “Besides, everyone knows that you hate playing in this band, the only reason you still do is because you need the cash. If that’s the case, you’d be making ten times more if you joined us,” he paused, brining his beer bottle to his lips, “If you even made it past tryouts.”

Y/N waved down the bartender, who immediately brought her three shots of vodka. She lined them up next to each other, taking them down one by one, not even feeling the burn of the alcohol anymore. Once she finished the last one, she slammed the small shot glass on the counter, finally meeting the manager’s stare, “How much cash we talking here?”

“Enough to get you off of your drummers bed bug infested couch,” he said, watching her with a small smirk. “And some new equipment.”

Y/N learned one simple truth as a musician, if it sounds too good to be true, it probably was. But, Y/N wasn’t known for being careful, she was known for jumping from band to band; using each experience as a stepping stone to get her where she needed to be. Where that was? Fuck if she knew. But, if these fuckers had the cash to pay her for her skill, then fuck it. What was another stepping stone but an opportunity to climb higher on the musical ladder.

“Alright, I’ll try out for your band,” she agreed, grabbing the bottle from Johnny’s hands. She took a long drink before she continued, “It better not be a fucking folk band, John, otherwise I’ll burn the fucking place down.”

He reached out to her, trying to planting a card into her leather jacket. Instinctively, she pulled back, snatching the card from his hand as she pointed her finger at him; her pointed acrylics looking more intimidating than she actually was, warning, “And don’t ever fucking try to touch me again, if you do, I’ll cut your dick off and shove it down your throat.”

Y/N began to disappear into the crowd, vaguely hearing his voice calling out to her, “I’ll put you in for 2 pm tomorrow!”

Being the idiot that she was, however, Y/N forgot about the tryouts and rushed out of band practice, only to arrive three hours late with messy hair and a sweat sheen body from the heat of the basement she had practiced in. And, like Johnny said, she was lucky to still be given a chance to tryout. Especially considering the fact that she wanted the money. She needed it. 

The musician that went in for his tryouts walked out of the back room in a huff, kicking the cans on the floor and slamming the heavy door of the warehouse shut behind him, she could vaguely hear him yelling curse words as he walked further from the building. The other person in the room stared at her, the intimidation clear on his face. 

The echoes from the back room could be heard down the hall as they bounced off the walls, “You can’t keep humiliating and talking down to all the tryouts, Bowers!”

“I was just fucking with him; not my fault he can’t take a fucking joke,” a man said, his voice raspy from the yell, she assumed it was Henry Bowers, as if Johnny calling him by his last name didn’t make it obvious.

She heard childish snickering coming from the room, “Oh, you think this is funny, Hockstetter? We go on tour in three fucking weeks! You need a new guitarist to--”

“I see another guitarist come into that room, I’m going to beat the shit out of them,” Henry said loudly, and she could almost picture the boy standing with his arms crossed and a sneer on his face.

The other musician in the room, seemingly intimidated by Bowers’ words, immediately grabbed his equipment and scurried off. Y/N smiled to herself, crushing her cigarette under her boot,  _ just me now. _

“We only have two more left,” Johnny said in a gentle tone, as if he was trying to comfort a band of toddlers. 

“Just bring the next person in, Johnny,” a tired, softer voice said, “Henry will get over it once this is over, he just needs to dip into some pussy.”

“Fine,” Johnny spat, “But you’d better fucking sit your ass through these tryouts or so help me  _ god  _ I will--”

“ _ I will, I will _ ,” a mocking voice repeated, mimicking Johnny’s voice, “Shut the fuck up and bring those sorry cock suckers in here.”

A roar of laughter erupted from the room. Seconds later, Johnny appeared in the room, confused and puzzled that Y/N was the only one there. Y/N shrugged, simply explaining, “Guess your other tryout bitched out.”

Johnny rolled his eyes and motioned with his fingers for Y/N to follow him, “Just don’t take anything they say too personally- they can be pretty rough.”

“I can handle myself,” she assured, rolling her eyes.

“Seriously,” he paused, a look of terror in his eyes, he needed her now more than ever. “ _ Please _ , don’t take it personally.”

Y/N nodded, raising her brow, “I’ll be fine.”

Johnny released a loud sigh from his nose, the stress obvious when he began to rub his hands together. Y/N followed Johnny into a large open room, the walls spray painted with graffiti all around save for the large window on the other end. There was a large plush, black couch pushed against the wall, two men occupied that one, and she immediately matched the guys to their photos; Vic Criss sat on one end of the couch, scrolling through his phone with a bored expression on his face. Belch Huggins looked as if he was dozed off on the other end of the couch, his head laid on the hand rest with his cap over his face, while his feet were sprawled over the edge. 

Near the large open window, Henry Bowers and Patrick Hockstetter seemed to be having what looked like an impromptu knife fight. Henry lunged toward Patrick, who jumped out of the way, cackling maniacally, “Getting a little slow there, huh Bowers?”

“Fuck you, twig,” Henry spat.

Johnny cleared his throat, trying to get their attention, “Guys, this is Y/N.”

At the mention of her name, all eyes were now on her. Even Belch, who had been snoring a few minutes prior, was wide awake now, gaping at her like if she was a figment of their imaginations. 

Vic Criss tilted his head, a small smile spreading across his lips. He quickly put his phone down and crossed his arms over his chest.

Henry and Patrick however, stared at her in shock. Henry ran his hand through his outdated mullet styled hair, “Are we starting the pussy party early, Johnny? Cause if so, I think you really should have brought more.”

“We can share her,” Patrick whispered, a devilish grin spreading across his lips. His playful figure quickly turned into a sexual gesture, as he thrust his crotch out, his long fingers running over the zipper as he licked his lips. His eyes observed her from her moss green doc martens, the black laces wrapped twice around her ankles, up to her torn skinny jeans, and then to her exposed belly area. His eyes lingered on her obvious cleavage, admiring the way her torn shirt showed just enough skin to tease his imagination, “I go first.”

“In your fucking dreams, creep,” Y/N scoffed, setting her sticker covered guitar case on the ground.

Their eyes watched the movement, and in a sudden instant, their expressions went from flirty to hostile in a matter of seconds. Patrick was the first to speak up, laughing, “Aw, she thinks she can try out for the band, Hen.”

“You can try out,” Henry started, slowly walking towards her, “If you get on your knees and suck my dick.”

Y/N laughed, loudly, throwing the men in the room off, “I’m sorry, but I only fuck with guys who are over 8 inches, and you,” she paused, checking Henry out and sighing dramatically, “You look like you’re 3 inches, tops.”

Vic and Belch snickered at the insult. Henry was livid, and Patrick stared at her darkly, his hand fidgeting with something in the pocket of his plaid red and black overshirt. Y/N turned to Johnny, “Where do I plugin?”

Johnny, who was eyeing Henry and Patrick carefully, turned to her, “We use the Line 6 half stack over here for the tryouts.”

Y/N nodded, kneeling down next to her guitar case as she casually flipped the latches open. Her guitar had seen some better days, once, before she owned it. Now, the once white Ibanez GRG had chipped paint on the edges, the fretboard was slightly warped from previous water damage. The permanent marker drawings she made on it were covered with stickers that she had given up on removing. But, she loved that guitar with all her heart; the only thing she ever  _ really  _ loved.

Lazily, she placed the mickey mouse strap over her shoulder, plugging in the amp cord that Johnny handed to her, and strummed the guitar to make sure it was in the proper tuning. 

“You really play with that piece of shit?”

Y/N tried to bite her tongue at Henry Bower’s rude comment, instead opting to focus on her guitar, still tuning it, “This piece of shit has more balls than you and your boy put together.”

She could feel Henry’s glare on her, but she refused to acknowledge him, telling herself that if she lost her temper right now, she wouldn’t get the opportunity to earn the cash for her own musical interests. 

_ Stepping stones _ , she reminded herself; trying to suppress the fact that she genuinely did enjoy the music these assholes created. 

Once her guitar was properly tuned to drop d, the tuning she knew these boys played on, she strummed her guitar rhythmically, playing a small piece of a song from her other band. 

She turned to face the guys all staring at her, Vic, the lead singer, leaned back on the couch, “Well, go ahead and blow us away, babe.”

Y/N’s fingers went to the slightly warped fretboard, the tips touching the strings - her nails briefly touching the other strings before she adjusted them - as the fingers on her other hand grasped her 0.5 pick, strumming the strings as she played a technical solo, her fingers bent the strings as she shredded on the frets, doing sweep movements, and finger tapping; her eyes caught a glimpse of Vic’s face, his jaw dropped open in awe and Belch nodded his head to an imaginary beat in his head, as if he was playing his drums along to her. 

She continued to shred on her guitar for another minute before pausing. When she stopped, Vic and Belch stood up and gave her a standing ovation, along with Johnny Ray. 

Belch was the first to speak, smiling as he walked over and high fived Y/N, “That was fucking awesome!”

Vic came up beside him, holding out his fist for a fist bump, “Hell yeah, I like her, Johnny! Better than the fucking sugar sniffers you brought in earlier - she actually knows how to play.”

Johnny, pleased with himself, smiled, “I knew  _ you _ would,” his eyes trailed over to the other two men who were eyeing their bandmates with vicious disdain, “What do  _ you _ guys think?”

Henry pursed his lips together, staring at Y/N up and down, “Do you even know any of our songs?”

“I’m a fast learner,” she answered, holding her guitar by the fretboard.

Henry scoffed, staring at Patrick. Though, Y/N noticed a tiny glint in his eyes, like he was impressed as well. Patrick, however, still remained stoic as he lazily waltzed over to her side. He reached out towards the rack of various guitars, picking up a black ESP Kirk Hammett signature guitar with white symbols imprinted on it. Y/N stared at the instrument with awe and envy, wishing she could afford something as beautiful as the guitar Patrick held in his hands, plugging it into the other Line 6 half stack. 

It didn’t take long for him to tune his guitar, and he stared at her with dark eyes as he also began to shred in front of her. He was taller than her, staring down to her with his legs spread.

Y/N knew what this was, he was establishing his dominance; he was cementing his territory, saying with his stance, his hard stare, and the gesture of playing during  _ her _ tryout, that she was never going to be a part of their band.

_ The hell I’m not _ , Y/N thought. 

She immediately began to finger pick as well, keeping up with Patrick’s ever increasing speed, refusing to back down and let him win. 

The air in the room was tense, she knew all eyes were on herself and Patrick, but right now, it was only she and him. Both of them fighting for their right to play in the band, neither refusing to back down. His riffs were raw, angry and powerful; communicating with her that she was not welcome. 

Hers were just as heavy, pushing back, unrelenting. 

Finally, Y/N shredded so heavily, so quickly, that two of her strings popped loose, flying and snapping hard against her fingers. She felt the pain in her hands as a small cut formed on her fingers, still, she played with the remaining strings, choosing to stick to soloing. 

The battle wasn’t over until Patrick ended his solo with a hard riff, prompting Y/N to stop as well. 

They both stood still, the silence in the room was deafening as they glared at one another. Johnny came up beside Y/N, keeping his distance, “Y/N, are you alright?”

“Huh?”

Johnny pointed to her hand and she looked down at it as it covered her strings and guitar in blood, “Oh? This is nothing, I’ll be fine.” She shrugged, rubbing the cut fingers on her jeans. 

“Like a badass,” Belch smiled, nodding his head in approval; Vic nodding along with him in agreement. 

Henry’s face was blank, void of any emotion, but his eyes trailed to her open wounds, and then up to her eyes; he furrowed his brows slightly in amusement, but it was quickly replaced with indifference when he gazed upon Patrick’s dark stare. 

Y/N scoffed, smirking when she met his eyes, “Is that all?”

Patrick opened his mouth as he was about to speak, when he was crudely interrupted by Vic, “For now, yes. We’ll keep in touch, but, I think you’re the one.”

“Fuck yes,” Belch agreed.

“Fuck no,” Patrick said, “There’s not a chance in hell--”

“We’re not letting a chick in the band,” Henry said, his arms crossed over his chest.

“What the fuck are you talking about? You just saw--”

“No,” Patrick interrupted as Vic was trying to make his point.

Y/N, frustrated with the bitching between the guys unplugged her guitar and gently placed it in its case while the guys continued to argue. She picked her case up from the handle, speaking loudly over the boys, “Look, mull it over or do whatever the fuck you guys gotta do, but I got shit to take care of and I am not staying here to listen to grown ass guys bitch like high school girls.”

The boys stared at her in shock, their eyes wide as she turned to speak to Johnny, “Take down my number, gimme a call when these pussies make up their minds.”

Johnny smirked in amusement at her obvious ballsy nature; he pulled out his phone, dialing her number, “Let me walk you out.”

“Later, bitches,” she casually said, flipping the boys the finger as Johnny ushered her out of the room. 

When they were finally out of the warehouse, he spoke to her as he lit a cigarette, “You shouldn’t antagonize them; your chances of joining won’t be pretty now.”

“I don’t think my chances were great to begin with,” she confessed, somewhat defeated. Johnny handed her his cigarette and she graciously took it, puffing on it and exhaling a cloud of smoke in relief.

Johnny lit another cigarette for himself, his voice was slightly a mumble with the cigarette pressed between his lips, “Probably, but, I’ll see to it that you make it in. Whether they care to admit it or not, you’re the best tryout we’ve seen; and you’re not afraid of them, which means you won’t bail at the first sign of trouble.”

Y/N tilted her head, bringing the cigarette to her lips, “Just how much do you know about me?”

“Enough to know that you’re the real deal,” he said, smirking. His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he quickly took it out to read a barrage of text messages coming in. He chuckled with a slight sigh. He pushed the phone back into the pocket of his blazer, looking down at her bloody hand, “Make sure to get that looked at; if you make it in, we can’t have you taking hiatus before you’ve even had the chance to start.”

“I’ll be alright,” she assured, cockiness in her voice.

Johnny laughed in amusement, turning and entering the warehouse, “And get those strings replaced.”

Y/N flipped him off, the blood was now dry on her fingers when the door shut behind him. 

She turned, slowly dragging her legs along the hard concrete ground. Nighttime was setting in, and she could have called a cab, but her funds were running low and in all honesty, she preferred to feel the night air on her skin. It was going to be a long walk, but she needed it if she was going to ponder the possibility of being in Mind Failure.

Patrick and Henry were adamant that she was never going to be in the band, but, she had Vic, Belch and Johnny on her side; which had to count for something… right?

 

* * *

  
  


It had been two and a half weeks. Two and a half fucking weeks and not once did she hear a peep from Johnny, or any kind of status updates on Mind Failure’s website on the new rhythm guitarist. She checked the sight hourly, waiting to see if it would change, but it still read in big red letters, “Tryouts Open.”

She groaned in frustration for the fifth time that day, vaguely paying attention to the members in her band going on about how they wanted to change the sound of the band, for the third fucking time. 

Y/N stood in the background, scrolling through her phone; band practice today was held at Evan’s garage, or more specifically, his parent’s house. 

“Yo, who the fuck is that?” Evan asked, pointing to someone outside.

Y/N turned to see Johnny Ray leaning against a black Ferrari.

“Oh shit, yo, I think that’s Johnny Ray, the manager of that fucking band--Mind Failure,” Sam said, snapping his fingers, and jumping up in excitement, “Fuck, maybe he’s here to sign us!”

The guys started yapping away about the possible idea of being signed. Y/N lazily unplugged her guitar, pushing the instrument behind her back as she walked out of the garage and towards Johnny.

“You here to check out my shitty band?”

Johnny laughed, removing his sunglasses, “I’ve had enough of that piece of crap band of yours; and I’m sure you have too,” he turned, opening the door to his expensive car, “Grab your shit, let’s go.”

“What--”

“Do you want to be in Mind Failure or not?”

Y/N turned suddenly, meeting the stares of her ex bandmates and flipping them off as she shouted, “Hey guys, fuck you! I quit!”

She quickly ran to the other side of the car, jumping in and trying her best not to jump in anticipation as Johnny explained to her how her life was going to change, “Right now, I’m taking you to Empire Records to sign a temporary contract.”

“Temporary Contract?”

“So, the way we work this out is we have you sign a minor touring contract; this is only because these guys go through musicians fast, once you have stayed for a full year, then you will sign a permanent contract similar to what the rest of the band members signed,” he said, looking at his phone as he drove, typing a quick text message.

Y/N nodded, “And what are the terms of this contract?”

“You’ll see when we get to the office, I have my lawyer on call to review it for you in case you don’t understand it or want to change something, and I’ll be there as well,” he smiled, eyeing her sideways.

“And the guys?”

“They’re prepping for touring; we leave in a week, so we need to get this underway as soon as possible. If you agree to the contract, I’ll need you to pack essentials to bring on tour with you, as well as your equipment,” he said, turning into a large parking garage. 

He hurriedly opened the door, his legs rushing towards the elevator in the parking garage, prompting Y/N to hastily shove her guitar onto the passenger seat. She felt her body begin to tremble with anticipation; she couldn’t believe this was actually happening to her. 

She followed Johnny into the large office on the 25th floor, Johnny leaned over the counter of the receptionist’s desk, “Hey Joan, how’s my favorite lady today?”

Joan stared at Johnny with a hard look, the older lady in her mid forties obviously not having Johnny’s flirtatious advances, “You’re late to your appointment, Mr. Ray.”

“Is he pissed?”

Joan smirked, “Fuming.”

Johnny shrugged, walking towards the wide, large doors on his left. Without knocking, he pushed to doors open, strutting inside like he owned the place, “Alright, sorry I’m late, but I was caught in traffic.”

Tristan Roberts, who was sitting behind his desk, leaned forward on his desk, “Traffic? It’s fucking 10 AM,” his hard stare fell on Y/N; he took in her appearance, smirking as he stared at her standing there in her signature green Docs, black jeans rolled up to cuff above her boots. Her fishnets she wore under the jeans rested above the waistband, clinging to her skin, the old standard round neck t-shirt that rested at her hips, eyeing the obvious tattoos on her skin, “Nice, I see why you were adamant about his one Johnny; record sales will skyrocket if someone as good looking as her is in that band.”

“I recruited her for her skills, Tristan,” Johnny said with irritation in his voice, “Now, let’s get this shit started.”

Johnny motioned for Y/N to sit beside him as he dialed the band’s trusted lawyer while Tristan handed Y/N a copy of the contract. She looked over it, listening to Johnny’s lawyer explain to her the legality of it all, “Now, here’s the thing, since you are going to be signing a temporary contract, the only revenue you will make is from playing shows. You will not receive any pay from streaming sites, royalties or record sales until a full contract is signed; this is just so we guarantee that you stay in the band, once that has been established, we will make a permanent contract and you will receive the same amount of pay as the rest of the members, including participating in the making of their future albums.”

Y/N nodded, knitting her eyebrows at the legal jargon on the paper. Tristan and Johnny stared at her when she looked up from the paper, “So,” Johnny said, handing her a pen, “What’s it going to be?”

 

* * *

 

The tour bus was thick with the scent of cigarettes and cheap beer, Johnny hoped the guys weren’t up partying in the fucking bus again, but once he gazed at the sight in front of him he slowly felt himself die inside; Vic was sprawled over the small couch, Belch was retching in the restroom, Henry laid naked next two blonde women and Patrick was nowhere to be found.

Angrily, he grabbed the air horn he kept hidden in the driver’s seat of the bus and obnoxiously squeezed it; the boys automatically jumped up in surprise, yelling in shock “What the fuck, Johnny?!”

“You guys leave for touring today, get your shit together,” he chastised, his patience wearing thin as he tried not to yell, tossing the blonde woman her skimpy clothing, “Where the fuck is Hockstetter?”

“Fuck if I know,” Henry answered, recording the whole ordeal on his phone; which was going to end up on his instagram account, “Ask mom over there.”

Johnny turned to Vic who shrugged, rubbing his face as he stretched, “You know Hockstetter, he wanders off doing god knows what and doesn’t show up until it’s time to leave, he’ll be here.”

Belch slammed the door of the restroom shut behind him, rubbing his forehead with his sleeveless flannel shirt, “Coffee, aspirin.”

“The coffee is on it’s way,” he said, “Aspirin is in the cupboard right there; you guys really should reevaluate your partying, I don’t think this mess is going to make a good impression on Y/N.”

Henry rolled his eyes, sitting up on the floor, still naked, “I think it will; she’ll see that I’m not a weak three inches and soon enough, she’ll be on her knees begging me to fuck her.”

He laughed at his own joke, amused with his humor. Vic rolled his eyes, tossing Henry his faded jeans, “She’s out of your league, Hen.”

As if it couldn’t get worse, the door suddenly opened and Y/N furrowed her brows at the mess inside the tour bus. She smirked slightly when she saw Henry’s back as he pulled his pants up, catching a glimpse of his ass, “I can’t say much about your dick, but you do have a cute ass.”

Henry turned beet red while the guys all laughed, he marched off towards the restroom in a huff, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Sorry for the mess,” Vic apologized, a sheepish half smile on his lips, his fingers carding through his hair.

“The only thing you need to be sorry for is not fucking inviting me,” Y/N said, pushing the guitar on her strap behind her.

Belch and Vic smiled, already liking the new member of the band. Johnny rolled his eyes, glancing over at Y/N, “Did you bring your equipment?”

“Yeah, your roadies are hauling my stack into the trailer,” she said, kicking the beer cans aside as she sat near Vic, photobombing his selfie with a kiss to his cheek. Vic didn’t seem to mind, as he moved his arm further to catch both of them in it.

“Belch get in here,” Vic called. 

Belch jumped on the their laps, prompting groans of pain from Y/N and Vic. 

“Vic, show Y/N to her bunk, I have to get back to the office; but remember, try to be on your best behavior- ugh I don’t even know why I bother,” he said, mostly to himself as Belch began to play with Vic’s nipple guard through his mesh shirt, “Make sure Hockstetter is on this bus before it leaves.”

Johnny promptly exited the bus, leaving Y/N alone with the boys for the first time. 

Vic and Belch weren’t bad however, they both immediately started complimenting her on her playing, “Your riffs were sick; even Bowers was blown away, though, he didn’t want to admit it.”

Vic got to his feet and motioned for Y/N to follow him to the back of the bus, “The bunks are back here; Henry, Belch and I have the bottom ones, Pat has the top one and that leaves you with the other top one.”

He pointed to the only empty bunk in the crowded room, “It tends to get hot up there, so be careful. Also, there’s an empty drawer over there for your clothes. Make yourself comfortable, breakfast is being brought to us.”

“Thank you,” she said, shooting Vic her most sweetest smile, making the blonde haired guy blush slightly. 

Y/N took a moment to glance around the dark bunk room, admiring how each bunk was easily identifiable to whom it belonged to. Vic’s was neat, with fluffy pillows and what looked to be like a soft, feather blanket. Belch’s was slightly ruffled, a pair of drumsticks tossed on it. Henry’s bunk was- surprisingly- somewhat neat, save for the numerous amounts of shirts piled on it. Patrick’s, however, was the filthiest of all. The blankets were on a heap on his bed, the thin mattress peeking out below the blanket; there was no pillow at all and a guitar lay on top of it, with small pieces of paper stuffed into the walls along with a half smoked joint and a pack of Camel Bolds. 

She tilted her head, setting her own guitar on the bed. She began to unpack her clothes, fitting them and her accessories into the one drawer. She pulled out her small clip on fan, grateful that she even decided to bring it in the first place. 

As she turned to head back towards the “dining” area of the bus, she bumped into the tall, lanky, shaggy haired guy that was Patrick. He wore tight black skinny jeans that were torn at the knees, the cuffs pushed into large, black combat boots. The blue and black flannel overshirt he wore barely covered the dried bloodstains on his white undershirt, his knuckles were cut open as if he was fighting. 

He didn’t say a word, he just stood there, staring at her as he smoked his cigarette. Frustrated with the awkward silence, she asked,  “You gonna say something or just stand there and stare?”

Patrick’s stare was still blank, until he finally pushed beside her and climbed into his bunk, his eyes still on her while he exhaled a large cloud of smoke as his hands began to play his guitar. 

Y/N scoffed, knowing full well that he was still trying to intimidate her. Just to spite him, she stayed in the room, climbing into her bunk and enjoying the cool breeze of the mini clip on fan, smirking at Patrick’s sweaty face. The heat didn’t seem to bother him, as he was unaware of it, still staring at her. 

Belch’s voice cut the silence in the air, “Yo, Pat, Y/N; breakfast is here!”

Y/N continued to stare back at Patrick, finally breaking her gaze as her stomach rumbled, betraying her. 

She jumped off of her bunk, heading towards the delicious smell of pancakes, bacon, eggs and coffee in the air; she could still feel Patrick’s eyes on her as she left however, somehow, she knew that the only reason she was here was because of Johnny, Vic, Belch and maybe even Henry. 

This was something that Patrick obviously objected to, and he wasn’t going to make her time with Mind Failure easy, she somehow also guessed that he would do anything in his power to make her quit. But, he had another thing coming if he thought he could get rid of her that easily.

 

* * *

 

A/N: Follow us on Tumblr for more content; including HC's, Moodboards and Playlists!

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	3. To the Stage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter warnings: Violence. Mentions of Blood. Drug Use. Alcohol Use. Mentions of Fellatio. Fighting. Bad Language.   
> Find us on Tumblr @darth-stetter and @rosalynbair

The touring was going to start in the states, the band was booked for an overseas tour in Europe, the United Kingdom, and Australia. However, time would tell if Mind Failure’s new guitarist would be around for long. The first day on the tour bus wasn’t too bad in most aspects. She mostly kept close to Vic and Belch, both of them consistently praising her on her skill as she practiced in her bunk, curtain open while the two mature boys talked with her.

Henry mostly ignored her, keeping to himself with his eyes glued to the screen of his phone, drinking a shitty beer or wreaking havoc with Patrick. Y/N swore she could hear them talking about her in harsh tones from the front of the bus, but she dropped it, telling herself that they must be little bitches if they had to talk shit about her behind her back.

She waltzed towards the bunks, both of them not even acknowledging her presence when she curled her fingers around the side of the bed, a foot balancing onto Vic’s bed before she lifted herself onto the high bunk. Her one leg swinging upwards as she put her weight up onto the heels of her hands. She was sure Patrick and Henry got a decent view of her ass as she knelt on her bed to get herself situated; her shorts riding up her hips, despite the belt she had wrapped around her body.

She turned her hips quickly, placing her bum on the thin mattress - if she could call it that. It was more of a mattress pad. And it had definitely seen better days. Her back leaned against the wall, her memory foam pillow positioned between her and the wood so her back wouldn’t get too much worse from the position, with her knees spread and the soles of her feet touching in a stretch after leaning forward to grab the guitar at the end of the bed. Her hands gripped her Ibanez, fingers curled along the fretboard as she brought the chords of one of Mind Failure’s songs to her mind.

Her fingers trailed along the neck of the guitar, nails sometimes hitting the strings before she curled her fingers inwards so there was no extra dampness to the strings. Her right hand plucked at the chords gently, not wanting the sound to reach all around the bus as she practiced and learned, much how she hated when people eavesdropped when she tried to write new songs. It was private until it was perfect.

Her eyes fell from her laptop where she had a few YouTube tabs open of their live shows, and she looked up to see the two boys staring at her; Patrick’s face was blank as usual, hair pushed back away from his face in a sloppy bun. Henry stared at her with amusement, his eyebrows furrowed when he spoke, the smoke from his joint escaping his lungs as he exhaled through his lips, decorating the air with the grey smog. “I thought you were a fast learner.”

Y/N scoffed, still strumming the guitar slowly, eyeing the video as she watched their old guitarist perform, “You see me playing it, don’t you?”

Henry chuckled, the sound echoing throughout the bunk room as he shared a look with Patrick who had the slightest of smirks on his lips, “You’re not going to make it long if you keep getting your tabs from YouTube video covers.”

“Then why the fuck don’t you assholes get off your asses and teach me the proper tabs?” she shot back, feeling her irritation soar at their smugness and eagerness for her to fail.

Patrick still stared at her. His eyes dark but taunting, refusing to utter a single word to her. His eyes turned to a threatening gaze when she spoke, as if he wanted to put her in her place. But regardless, he continued to give her the silent treatment.

How long was he going to keep this shit up?

A part of her hoped that he would end up saying something, if only so she could put him in his place. If it took another guitar battle, she would gladly do it. But, if there was anything Y/N hated, it was the silent treatment. She always figured passive or passive aggressive reactions were for pussies. Her mother used to give her father the silent treatment, it was weak. Patrick was weak.

Say what you gotta say, no bullshit. That was something she always lived by, and she hated when she was on the receiving end of someone’s passive aggressive antics - not at all because she couldn’t take it. It was because it was honestly the childish thing to do in her mind.

At least Henry had some balls when it came to exchanging verbal jabs with her. Patrick on the other hand; well, he was hard to read sometimes.

Henry took a puff off the joint that he shared with Patrick, handing it back to the lanky, angular man when he reached for his brown bottle of brand name beer, taking a long sip, releasing his mouth from it with a hissing pop. “What for?”

“I don’t know, maybe so we don’t fuck up your set when you’re touring, I mean, it is your show after all,” she retorted, obviously frustrated at having to explain to these idiots why she needed their help. If her words didn’t get her feelings across, her glare sure as hell would have.

“Just as long as you acknowledge it,” Henry shrugged, still indifferent to the situation.

Y/N paused from her playing to stare at the blonde haired, messy mullet wearing asshole that sat on the bunk across from her, she took a deep breath as she prepared to rip into him how it wasn’t about their pride; it was about the music.

“If I fuck up then your fans–”

She was mildly impressed at hearing Patrick’s almost nasally voice finally speak up, his tone was harsh when he spoke, “They won’t blame us, they know we never fuck up. But you, they don’t know shit about you. If you fuck up, they’ll call for you to quit and then we’re home free.” 

Y/N chuckled, staring at the shaggy haired musician; his hair was pushed back so she could see his face clearly.

When he first met her, he had a predatory glint in his eyes, he had a similar look this time as well, only it was harsh… not flirty. Dragging herself from the shock of his jab, she immediately responded, “Like I said, I’m a fast learner.”

Patrick smirked, taking a long drag from his joint. Henry’s eyes went from her, and then back to Patrick as he watched the tense exchange, the air was charged with an electric hostility that even he was unnerved by. Patrick’s ring covered fingers gently put the joint out, exhaling a large ring of the thick, smelly smoke towards her, “We’ll see about that.”

The tour bus came to a sudden halt, Belch’s voice filled the silence of the room as he yelled from the dinette, “Pit stop!”

Henry smirked at Y/N as he exited the room, with Patrick following behind him. His stare was still on her even as he left the bunk room, only turning his back to her when he was well out of the bunk area. Y/N watched the men smugly walk out of the bus while she sat in her bunk, punching the sides in anger, the dull ache starting in her joints from the impact. “Fuck.”

She knew they weren’t going to help her, that much was obvious. She figured that they would at least care enough about the band to ensure that she wouldn’t butcher their songs. But, it seemed their pride was bigger than their need to keep the fans happy, and to keep the music alive.

“Selfish fucking assholes,” she grumbled to herself, her hands returning to holding the guitar, strumming the strings before plucking the solo slowly.

A knock interrupted her from her thoughts, her head shot up to see Vic leaning against the doorframe lazily, his smooth chest was exposed through the open black open button up shirt he wore, “Do you need anything? We’re stopping for about fifteen minutes before we get back on the road again.”

“I’m good,” she answered, a little too harshly. Her tone sharp and short. She saw that her tone made Vic’s brows furrow in confusion, “I’m sorry, I’m not mad at you.”

“Ah,” Vic chuckled, a smile tugging at his lips, knowing very well who she was pissed at. He slowly waltzed towards her, leaning against the wall of her bunk, “What did they do?”

Y/N’s fingers reached for her pockets, pulling out an almost empty pack of Marlboro Reds. She brought one of the cigarettes to her lips, mumbling as she answered him while she lit her cigarette, “It’s more about what they didn’t, or won’t, do.”

Vic watched her as he waited for her to calm herself. She took a few drags from her cigarette when she finally felt somewhat at ease. She pinched the bridge of her nose, shutting her eyes as she spoke. “Patrick is refusing to help me learn the songs.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t hold out hope on him teaching you anything,” Vic said, sighing, head shaking slightly to accentuate his words. “He would rather set the whole band on fire than teach you how to play the songs.”

Y/N’s eyes opened at his words, she gazed into the soft dark brown pools of Vic’s eyes that were rimmed with smoky charcoal eyeliner, “What should I do?”

Vic inhaled deeply through his nose. “Honestly, we picked you because you were the best, Y/N. We know a bit about your history, cause of Johnny. If that fucker isn’t going to help, then fuck it, do it on your own. Besides,” he said, shifting his whole body to face her now, “You don’t strike me as the type to roll over and give up so easily.”

“I’m not,” she agreed. Even with the smallest of looks that he gave her, she knew he had researched her history with the other bands she had been in.

Vic smiled softly at her, his eyes lighting up as he watched her pluck a few strings again. “Then get your ass to practicing; put that fucker in his place. God knows he needs it. Show him that you have the right to be here; you’ve convinced me and Belch, now convince those other two assholes. And more importantly, convince yourself.”

“You should be a motivational speaker,” Y/N joked, feeling slightly better at Vic’s words while she puffed on her cigarette, wisps of smoke escaping her lips.

“I’ve been told, but, I don’t think they’d appreciate my beauty the way our fans do,” he said, staring down at the pack of cigarettes that only contained two sticks, “I’ll get you pack of cigs, looks like you’re running low there.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do, you’re not going to get paid until after our first show; least I could do is spot you so you can deal with these idiots,” he smirked, patting her foot gently. He turned away and smoothly walked out of the bunk room despite how clunky his shiny combat boots were.

Y/N leaned back against the wall of her bunk, sighing in frustration. She laid the guitar flat on her lap as she reached for her phone, putting her earphones in as she searched and played Mind Failure’s music through her music app.

If she was a decent enough musician, she could figure the tabs out by simply listening to the music. But, she wasn’t a decent musician, she was a fucking great musician. And Vic was right, if those fuckers didn’t want to teach her how to play the songs, then she would learn them on her own. Their first stop on the tour was two days away; she could do it.

She had to.

 

 

The silence in the bus was almost deafening; aside from the small rumble of the engine and the high pitched sounds of the passing cars on the freeway, everything else was dead silent. Y/N, however, was still awake, refusing to sleep while she placed her fingers on the fretboard, matching each note to the ones in the songs. A cigarette in her lips and noise cancelling headphones over her Y/H/C messy hair that had at one point been in a lopsided bun.

She had to hand it to Patrick, he was an asshole but the fucker wrote some amazing music. Her eyes were heavy with the sands of sleep threatening to overtake her, she groaned in frustration, rubbing her eyes with the palms of her hands.

When she was done, she looked up to see Belch standing near the fridge in the small kitchenette, grabbing a beer. He turned towards her, opening the beer with the end of his black cut off Black Sabbath shirt. He walked over and handed it to her as he spoke while she pushed her headphones back behind her ears, “You doing ok, there?”

Y/N sighed, placing the cigarette on the ashtray that sat on the small table beside the couch, taking the cold beer from his large hand, “I’m getting there.”

Belch turned and grabbed another beer for himself, taking a long gulp when he finally joked, “I’d offer to help, but I don’t even come up with the drum beats, so…”

She tilted her head, pushing her headphones down towards her neck and taking a drag from her cigarette, brows furrowing inwards. “What do you mean?”

Belch sighed, leaning against the counter, “Everyone knows we have a way of doing things in this band; and I’m sure you’ve heard that Patrick doesn’t allow any creative input from anyone else.”

Y/N nodded, allowing him to continue, “He is also the one that comes up with the drum beats, the bass lines, he tells Vic how to sing, what key, where the influxes are, where to drop into falsetto; he’s the mastermind behind the whole band.”

“That’s a little tyrannical, don’t you think?”

Belch shrugged, gulping down his beer, “He got us this far, and Henry too.”

She furrowed her brows, wondering how the hell they got so far with just one man, one man who was one of the worst people she had had to deal with, creating everything in the band, “Doesn’t that frustrate you?”

“Sometimes, but, it is what it is,” he answered, a tone of defeat in his voice. He had loved Mind Failure since it’s garage days, and he loved it even now, no matter how draining it had become to deal with Patrick’s worsening personality. He finished off his beer, throwing the bottle inside an beer box that now only held the other empty bottles. “For what it’s worth, I know you’ll do great; Johnny did good in bringing you to us, even if the other guys don’t know it.”

Y/N smiled at the husky man that was now walking towards the bunks, when he opened the door, she could see a small glowing light coming from Pat’s bunk. She tilted her head to see what he was doing, noticing a pen in his fingers while his hand moved rapidly across an old leather notebook he had in his lap. Her view was lost when the door closed shut behind Belch.

She had to admit, however much it irritated her, that Patrick’s creativity was impressive. That still didn’t negate the fact that he was an asshole, and Henry too.

She worked with a ton of musicians in all of her years jumping from one band to the next, even starting a few on her own, and she’s seen people like Patrick many times over. People like him were the reason many great bands broke up, but to see the rest of the members willingly lay down and let Patrick take over everything was baffling to say the least. She had seen so many great bands with great players clash against each other, leaving the band in a messy breakup with broken hearted fans that only wanted new music, but would never get it.

Y/N shook her head and placed the headphones back over her head, determined to learn the beautiful, technical songs that Patrick’s demented mind came up with.

 

The first stop was a music festival in west New York - the rock show staring away from the uptown class of Manhattan. They would start in the east coast and make their way back to the west coast, covering everything in between before heading down to the south and into South America for a week. If there was another thing that Mind Failure hated, it was unorganized tour dates. They despised having to be in Arizona one day and then in North Carolina the next. But no matter how hard Vic and Belch worked to have a steady schedule with a good amount of travel and rest time, there was nothing they could do when their manager and label signed them up for festivals that threw off their carefully planned route.

The day before the show, the boys all stayed up late, partying and drinking. Vic and Belch took it easy, Henry and Patrick however, went all out. Vic made it a point to inform Y/N that this was the usual way it worked with them. However frustrating it was, she didn’t object when Henry offered up shot after shot of whiskey.

The bus had been hotboxed by Patrick, Henry and a few girls that had been invited onto the bus by the sex crazed men; the smell of weed permeating into the fabrics of the furniture. Y/N had long since opened the small window in her bunk and turned her little clip fan on rotate. She had even pulled the little curtain across to have some form of privacy while Henry got blowed by a cute little redhead on her knees. Despite enjoying a joint every once in a while, she didn’t quite like getting a second hand high when she was trying to fully master extremely complex guitar riffs.

Now, as the other bands on the roster were playing their sets, Mind Failure were all in their tour bus, nursing terrible hangovers well into the afternoon, with the exception of Vic and Belch, who prepared coffee, while their ordered brunch was delivered by Johnny’s tour manager. There was a bottle of aspirin and another bottle of Advil sitting on the table, looking as if they were as normal as salt and pepper shakers.

Y/N downed a whole cup of black coffee - too lazy to add the sugar. And she knew she’d get shit from Henry and Pat if they saw her pouring almond milk into the black liquid. She lounged on the bench of the kitchen table, smirking at Vic chastising Henry while she rested her elbow on her knee, sipping at the last bit of her coffee. “You knew we had a show today; you did this to yourself.”

Henry rolled his eyes, pressing his fingers against the temple of his head, “Oh for fuck’s sake, shut the fuck up Vic; not like you tried to stop it.”

“You never listen to me when I tell you to stop!” Vic snapped back.

“Fucking shit, Vic, just pour me the goddamn coffee and shut up,” he said, holding his mug out.

Vic slammed the coffee pot down on the counter, hot coffee splashing out of the sides and onto the counter surface before stomping off towards the bunks, “Fill your own fucking cup, you dick wad.”

Henry rolled his eyes, as if the action of having to get up to get his own coffee was a major inconvenience. Sluggishly, he dragged his feet to the counter, filling his mug to the rim with coffee, making a huge mess as he mixed in a load of creamer.

He took a sip, making a satisfied - almost sexual - sound as he drank his large cup of liquid sugar. He turned, meeting Y/N’s amused, quirked eyebrow, stare. “The fuck you looking at?”

Y/N shrugged, finishing her cup of black coffee, “You know, for a badass, you whine a fuckton.”

Henry furrowed his brows, raising his middle finger at her as he took a large gulp of coffee, “Kinda like how you were whining the other day when Pat refused to teach you the songs,” He taunted, clearly egging for a fight.

“At least I don’t need someone to write my shit for me,” she shot back, leaning back against the wall as she took another sip of coffee.

Henry laughed, loud and full, as if what she said was a major joke to him. When he finally composed himself, he placed the mug on the counter, reaching into his pockets for his pack of Marlboro Reds, “You’re in Mind Failure now, sugar tits, and you’re playing songs that Patrick wrote,” he brought a cigarette to his lips, inhaling as he continued with an edge of sarcasm, “By the way, how’s that going?”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, as she opened her mouth to shoot a retort, the door slammed open. Patrick stomped into the bus, his dark hair was a disheveled mess sticking up in ways that shouldn’t be possible without hairspray and a teasing comb; his nose was caked with dry blood and the skin under his eyes was a shade of purple, as if he hadn’t slept in days.

Henry looked towards his friend, his brows furrowing as he handed him the cigarette. Patrick took it into his bruised hands, taking a drag, “The fuck happened to you?”

Patrick shrugged his shoulders, waltzing towards the bunks, “I’ll tell you later, we gotta get ready for our show, otherwise Belch and Vic will lose their shit.”

“Too late,” Henry called behind him; and he chuckled when Patrick opened the door of the bunks to get an earful of Vic lecturing him. He cupped his mug in his hand, turning to meet Y/N’s stare, “Hope you’re ready for the show, sassy; hopefully, you don’t fuck up too much, it’ll make us look bad.”

“You already make yourselves look bad,” Y/N retorted, getting out of the small table. The clock read one PM, meaning they would be hitting the stage soon, and then they would have to do some signings.

“Yet, here you are, with us,” Henry smirked.

“Gotta start somewhere,” she shot back, inches from Henry’s face, readying herself for a fight. These past few days without much sleep left her in a really grouchy mood; no amount of coffee would erase the grouchiness, and Henry’s bitchy attitude wasn’t helping.

“We’re not a starter. We’re where everyone only dreams of ending up,” Henry’s eyes twinkled as his lips faked a smile, “But you’re feisty; maybe I’ll end up fucking you after you leave the band. I can only imagine what that pussy feels like—”

He gasped as Y/N grabbed his dick and his balls in her hand, squeezing them tightly in her firm grip, causing Henry’s face to wince in pain. He didn’t know if the pressure was what caused him pain, or the pointed tips of her nails pressing little holes into the fabric of his sweats, but the sight brought a sense of satisfaction to her, “Well, looks like I was wrong, you’re maybe about… wow, 6 inches? Not bad, a lot better than I expected.”

She squeezed his balls and dick harder, he fell forward, grasping her shoulders for support, his face contorted with pain and fury barely an inch in front of hers, but before he could utter a word, she spoke again, “But I still wouldn’t fuck you Bowers,” she pulled him forwards, speaking into his ear, “And if you keep talking to me like I’m one of your whores, I’ll cut your balls off. Understood?”

Henry glared at her with hatred, pursing his lips into a tight line. Y/N squeezed harder, repeating herself, “Understood?”

Finally, he nodded, letting out a slight whimper. She smiled, leaning in and lightly nipping at his earlobe, “Good, I’ll see you onstage then.”

She released her tight grip, watching as he grasped his sack, still wincing, “Fuck.”

“You’ll be fine,” she called, walking towards the bunks to get dressed, smirking when she heard Henry’s mumbling behind her.

He fucking deserved it, she thought, telling herself that he could have gotten worse, so much worse. He deserved worse.

 

Belch was the first to get his equipment set up; Vic informed Y/N that he always preferred to be there when the techs set up his drum set, fearing that one of them might end up breaking a piece of Sasha, which is what he named his drum set.

She stared at Vic, admiring how beautiful the man looked with his angelic blonde hair pushed off to the side and gelled nicely into place, his skin was as smooth as silk, his eyes were rimmed with a fresh coat of black eyeliner and red eyeshadow. She tilted her head in confusion when she looked down and saw that he was wearing black leather pants on such a hot day, but she didn’t question it, Y/N knew that Vic was one of those people that would sacrifice comfort for beauty. Even despite the laced up thighs and the harder leather around his knees, the laces tucking into his dark boots. He wore a loose tank that was only half tucked into his pants, showing off his skinny but toned arms.

Belch wore his usual denim long shorts paired with an Iron Maiden t-shirt that had the sleeves ripped off, his bicep piece of a wolf showing for everyone to see. From here, she could see the beads of sweat begin to build up at the hem of his backwards facing cap.

The three of them stood together on the side of the stage, watching another band on the tour, Black Sunday, play their set. Vic leaned in to speak to Y/N, “For future reference, these guys got beef with us.”

“Us?”

“Yeah,” Belch chimed in, lightly punching her arm, “Us, you’re in our band, you’re part of us”

Y/N smiled, feeling slightly giddy that these two boys that were in the world’s most outrageous band were actually total sweethearts, and they were accepting her into their band.

Vic smirked, nodding his head in agreement as he continued, “Anyways, we’ve gotten into a few brawls with them, so just letting you know in advance, they might try some shit on this tour… if Patrick and Henry haven’t already.”

She looked over to the lead singer, meeting his gaze as he winked at her and flipped off the boys next to her; impulsively - her impulse control leaving her in that moment, she grabbed Vic’s and Belch’s crotch areas, swishing her hips as she dropped down slowly, blowing the lead singer a kiss, completely throwing him off mid song before she rose back to her regular height.

Y/N smiled, flipping him off once she released her boys, turning and readying her guitar for their set. She practiced the songs that had been scrawled onto a piece of paper for the setlist - ones that she hurriedly learned in a matter of two days while Vic and Belch went to get waters from the cooler to set strategically on the stage so everyone had access to a drink at all times.

Learning the songs was a frustrating process, but in the end, even she was impressed by herself. She silently thanked whatever the hell was out there that blessed her with the gift of music.

Those music lessons paid off, I guess, she thought to herself, vaguely remembering her old neighbor who had taught her the basics until she had surpassed his own knowledge and talent.

She tuned her guitar to Mind Failure’s usual sound, setting everything to the right tone, making sure that everything was spic and span. Black Sunday’s set finally ended, Y/N was so focused on her guitar and tuning it properly, taking a note from Belch and not trusting the techs to do their thing, that she didn’t notice the slightly short guy standing behind her, “You made me mess up my song.”

Y/N turned towards the guy, meeting the lead singers gaze. His eyes were hooded with messy lashes, upon closer inspection, she noticed that his eyes were caked on with liner to cover the obvious bruises that he was hiding; his lip was slightly swollen, his cheek had a nasty scrape that looked fresh, his brown hair was messy and sweaty from the time on stage, Y/N rolled her eyes, looking back down to her guitar. “Maybe you’re not a good musician if you get distracted easily.”

His brown eyes scanned her up and down, taking in her appearance; she wore a black, crop jersey top, the last two numbers of her birth year sewn into the back and on the short sleeves. Her legs were clad in red and black gradient skinny jeans, the red fading down to a bloody grey before turning fully to a pure black. They were torn at the knees and stuffed into her crimson boots, black laces wrapped twice around her ankles before being tied and tucked in behind the tongues of the boots. Y/N observed the look on his face as a smile tugged at his lips, “You’re their new guitarist?”

“Yes, she is,” Belch’s voice said behind her, his tone reflecting possessive and protectiveness. He and Vic came up at either side of her, prompting the rest of Black Sunday to crowd behind their lead singer, “You got a problem with that, Brian?”

Just as Brian was about to speak, his eyes fell behind Y/N, Vic and Belch. His eyes fluttered, his lips quivered slightly and he looked… afraid. Y/N turned to see Patrick and Henry watching the interaction with intensity, their backs leaned against the large amps as they smoked cigarettes. Henry had that hard stare, and Y/N automatically assumed that was the warning look, the look he gave to people warning them to fuck off before he got physical. He tugged at his torn, denim vest, placing a hand on the waistline of his faded jeans.

But the stare that Patrick had on his face was far more unnerving, a sly smile spread across his face, he pushed his guitar back as he pointed his crotch out, the skin around his hips jutting forward and pulling tight against his muscles as his black skinny jeans slightly fell from the movement, licking his lips.

Brian looked at the ground, his eyes met Y/N’s for a brief moment when he motioned towards his bandmates to follow him.

Y/N’s eyes followed them as they stomped away, noticing Patrick and Henry rushing towards the guys. From this distance, it looked like they were taunting them, trying to start a fight. Belch and Vic tensed up beside her; Vic quickly tapped her lower back twice gently, “You down for a fight?”

“Always,” she answered, lifting the guitar from her shoulder, gently setting the old piece of equipment next to the amp.

She strode beside Vic and Belch, nearing the boys that were bunched together. The trio coming up on Brian and Henry shouting obscenities at each other while Patrick smirked silently behind him. The scene began to unfold as their voices raised higher. Once Brian threw the first punch, which landed on Henry’s jaw, it was over.

Patrick quickly grabbed his too-expensive black guitar by the neck and swung it at Brian’s head; Y/N winced when she heard the loud crack at the sound of wood meeting bone. Vic and Belch paused, their mouths dropping open as Brian fell to the ground with a hard thud, eyes rolling back as his lids closed over the brown irises, blood pooling on the ground that leaked from his head. The boys of Black Sunday stared at Patrick and Henry with wide, fear and anger laced eyes; the latter of them smirking, taunting them.

It was chaos then as the band began to bunch over on Henry and Patrick; Vic and Belch, finally coming out of their shock, ran towards the fighting bunch with Y/N trailing behind them. Y/N pushed her legs faster when Vic jumped on one of the boys’ back, fingers trailing around the bassist’s throat while Belch pulled the other off, tossing him into a stack of amps.

Y/N quickly noted that Patrick was handling his own, laughing while his lips and teeth were coated in blood as he pinned one of the guys down, throwing hard punches at him while drops of his own blood fell into his victim’s mouth. But Henry was having his face punched in by another heavier member of Black Sunday - their drummer; without hesitation, Y/N shuffled towards the pair, quickly landing a hard kick on the side of the stranger’s head with the steeled toe of her boot, dazing him, prompting Henry to swiftly land a hard blow on his face.

Y/N moved back, noting that Henry now had control of the fight. Moments later, the brawl was broken up by security. Henry was still yelling obscenities as he was pulled back, his already messy mullet even messier than before, a trail of blood excreting from his nose. Patrick still had a huge smile on his face, like if the whole thing was nothing more than entertainment for him, with Belch and Vic pulling him off of the woozy band member while he spat blood at him.

She watched with curious eyes as Brian’s unconscious form was lifted up by the security guards, one of the bandmates, the husky one that was beating on Henry shouted, “This isn’t fucking over!”

“You bet your fat ass it isn’t, bitch,” Henry shouted back, as he was being pulled away by Belch.

He flipped them off, watching them with angry eyes while they were being hauled off, the head of security turned to them with a frustrated expression, “What the hell happened?”

Before Henry could start, Vic interceded, speaking to the head of security in a very polite and professional tone, “I apologize for the fight, sir, but their lead singer Brian hit our bassist, Henry, first.”

“They said you antagonized them,” the security guard said, his eyes raking over Vic’s body. Vic, seemingly taking notice, smirked flirtatiously, placing a hand on his hip, jutting his hips out as he bent his left leg.

“Only because they were attacking and harassing our new guitarist when they got off the stage,” he said, motioning towards Y/N, who knew he was lying, but played along with the lie. She gave a meek smile to the security guard, her face bleeding with fake sympathy and weakness. Anything to backup Vic’s statement. The smaller she appeared, the more believable it was that a fight was started because of her.

Patrick and Henry shared a look, no doubt, this was the kind of thing that happened often. It was entertaining for them to watch.

While they were fighting, it seemed that the techs and roadies set up their equipment for them. Vic glanced towards the stage, quickly turning back to the security guard, flashing him his sweetest smile, and Y/N couldn’t help but turn her vulnerable smile into a sly smirk at the interaction, “We need to go on stage now, sir, but if you’d like, we can definitely answer any questions you may have after; we’re not going anywhere.”

The security guard smiled back at Vic, his cheeks a light shade of pink, “See to it that you don’t.”

Vic smirked at the man, turning towards his bandmates who stood staring at him. He smirked as he rolled his eyes, the bashfulness obvious in his deep brown eyes, “Shut up, let’s get on stage.”

They all gathered around each other, all of them checking their equipment; Patrick ignored Y/N as he observed his guitar, making sure there were no other damages to it besides the blood that was caked on the edges and body, only smirking slightly when Vic asked her, “Did you learn the songs?”

She simply nodded while she pulled the strap of her guitar over her head, making the guys all stare at one another, except for Patrick, who still had the sly, cunning smile on his face, only now he was looking directly at her; the gray green of his eyes shining with mischievous malice.

Henry however, stared at her with a shred of respect, nodding towards her slightly when he plucked the thick strings of his bass.

Belch was the first to go to the stage; the sound of the drum beats in her ears was loud as she zoned in on the music, listening to the first song they would be playing. She double checked her guitar, making sure that it was plugged into an amp while she counted the beats of Belch’s drum, making sure she was in tune with exactly what part of the song they were on at all times. Vic gently pushed her forwards, motioning for her to follow Patrick and Henry, who were now making their way to the stage.

The pair were already playing the riffs to one of their most technical songs, Y/N immediately chased after them, ignoring the plethora of screams coming from the crowd as her fingers automatically recognized the song they were playing - they weren’t screaming for her anyways. They didn’t know who she was. To them, she was just another face. That knowledge calmed whatever nerves she had left, her mind barely registering Vic’s voice, “Fucking New York! How the hell are you?!”

The crowd went wild at his voice, their screams somehow getting louder against the sound of their music blaring from the speakers pointed towards them on the stage, and he immediately began to sing, his voice echoing over the loud screams of the people in the crowd.

Y/N looked up towards the sea of people, watching them all stare at her in both awe and confusion. Vic moved towards her, placing an arm around her while she licked his cheek before placing a kiss to the soft skin, a smile creeping up on the vocalist’s lips while her fingers automatically played the frustratingly beautiful songs.

She and Vic began to head bang together, their hair moving in rhythmic movements. Moments later, she felt Henry on her other side, joining them in a head bang, his own body mere inches away from hers, radiating heat, as they all felt the music thrive inside of them.

As the music continued, the rhythm of the song was flowing so smoothly from her fingers, perfectly corresponding to Patrick’s leads. Her eyes wandered over to Patrick kneeling on the platform on stage, somewhat registering the camaraderie that was taking place on the stage opposite of him, the blood on his guitar and face still dripping onto the stage.

The song ended with Y/N playing the last of the riffs, the sounds of the strings fading off into the distance, enveloping the crowd in a moment that none of them would forget. The crowd cheered loudly, losing their minds at the sight of Henry and Vic waltzing over to her. Henry held out his fist, and Y/N closed her own, both of them going in for a friendly fist bump.

Vic, however, pulled her towards the platform where the vocalist’s microphone stand resided, speaking with an air of authority as he wrapped his arm tightly around her waist. “Everyone, I want to introduce you to our new guitarist!”

Y/N held out her arms, pushing her guitar behind her and took a bow, when she came back up, Vic looked out to the crowd, “This fucking chick, not even in the band for more than a week, was down to brawl by our side backstage before we came on.”

The crowd went wild at the news that a fight broke out backstage, all of them taking note of Patrick’s bloody mouth and guitar. Y/N encouraged them to cheer louder, she snatched the mic from Vic, smiling as she spoke, “C’mon guys, you can do better than that!”

The people cheered louder in response, Y/N smirked, tossing a bandana that she had tied around her wrist to the crowd. Vic smirked, continuing into the mic, “Welcome to Mind Failure, Y/N! Now let’s fucking get fucked up and wild, motherfuckers!”

Vic placed a harsh but quick kiss to her lips, grinning against her while she released a laugh, the crowd screaming somehow even louder than before. There was never any harm from getting a good fucking kiss.

Patrick spat blood into the crowd when Vic pulled away from Y/N, sending them into another frenzy. He began to play the intro to one of their hit songs, prompting Y/N and Henry to begin, with Belch joining in. Vic’s vocals joined in once more, he prowled across the stage as if he owned it.

Y/N was immersed in her playing, in the stage presence, soaking up the attention and acceptance that the crowd offered her that she wasn’t aware of the pair of dark eyes staring at her from across the stage in disdain.

 

“You fucking did awesome,” Vic praised to Y/N as they headed off the stage, “How the hell did you learn the songs that fast?”

Y/N shrugged, looking at him without the mask she had worn during the show, giving him the view of how tired she was. “I didn’t sleep much.”

“Well, it was fucking worth it,” Belch interceded, coming up behind her and slightly slapping her back. The motion made Y/N cringe, and although her first instinct was to attack, she knew that the husky man meant no harm. His sweet smile assured her that she had nothing to fear from him, so, she let the gesture slide, doing her best to return his smile.

“Yeah,” Henry said behind her. She turned, her brows crinkled and her lips slightly agape to hear the agreement actually slip from Henry’s mouth as he smoked a cigarette, the tendrils of smoke escaping his lips, “You did good, I’m impressed.”

“Are you?”

He smirked at her, and not in a flirtatious manner, but in a friendly way, almost as if he was okay with her presence now. “Yeah, I am.”

“Does this mean you’re going to stop being a dick?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she leaned against a spare monitor.

“No,” he answered, his voice teasing, “But I will stop trying to fuck you.”

“Aww, just when I was going to give it up,” she scoffed, faking irritation, “You give up so easily, Bowers.”

She draped an arm around him lazily, tugging him forward to place her lips on his sharp cheekbone. She placed her other arm over Vic, who put his free arm over Belch. The four of them walked arm in arm with each other, seemingly unaware of the brewing fury that was lying directly beneath Patrick Hockstetter’s seemingly blank expression, making it his mission to get rid of the girl that was throwing off the balance of his band.


	4. &Delinquents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Violence. Drug Use. Alcohol Use. Mentions of sexual content. Fighting. Bad Language. Your overall gross shit, you know?

Vic, Belch, Y/N, Henry and Patrick sat on their seats underneath the tent, softly bickering amongst themselves over the fight that partook before their set. Y/N did her best to stay out of it, she wasn’t completely innocent in the whole ordeal, but she felt it was best if she stayed silent.

She was more preoccupied with the prospect of meeting the fans; they loved her onstage, but, meeting them and hearing what they had to say about her was a different story. Johnny Ray lectured her that whatever negative things they had to say, she could not, under any circumstances, fight with them. She was trying to integrate herself into Mind Failure, and right now, Patrick was looking for any excuse to get rid of her. If the fans hated her, he would no doubt use that to his advantage.

“Brian’s in the hospital, Patrick,” Vic chastised, pulling up his sunglasses over his white blonde hair, his brown eyes smoldering with annoyance, “You shouldn’t have hit him with your guitar, they’re talking about pressing charges now.”

“He asked for it,” Patrick replied nonchalantly, leaning back on his chair with his hands crossed behind his head, his lips pulling up into a grinch like smile

“Oh, did he specifically say, ‘ _Patrick, please hit me across the head with your fucking guitar_?’”

Vic’s voice was now rising above their hushed voices, his frustration was starting to weep through his somewhat calm demeanor. Patrick remained indifferent to it, though, as Henry eyed Victor, “Fuck off Vic, you wouldn’t be saying that if you knew that those assholes jumped Patrick last night. The only reason they laid off is cause Pat held a fucking knife to Brian’s throat.”

“Yes, because holding a knife is so much better—“

“Don’t fucking come at us with your holier than thou bullshit Vicky,” Patrick interjected, “You jumped into that fight too.”

“Only because you fucking started it—“

“ _Enough!_ ”

Belch’s sudden loud shout shocked the guys into silence. His stare was firm, like that of a father trying to calm his fighting children; he cleared his throat then, lowering his voice into a hard whisper, “We have fans that are coming to meet us, get your shit together and quit your bitching, we can deal with it later, Vic.”

“But—“

“Later,” Belch repeated through gritted teeth, “So, put on a fucking smile and keep your bitching at bay. Now.”

Vic pouted as he crossed his arms and leaned back against his chair, prompting Patrick to sit forward and smirk smugly beside Henry, both of the boys exchanging an obvious fist bump.

Y/N watched the whole debacle with interest; she knew what to expect from these guys prior to joining them, but watching them interact together, with their different personalities, really wasn’t anything like reading the articles online. Her eyes were concentrated on Patrick, who was staring at the coming crowd with a predatory smile, no doubt trying to get his pick from the young fangirls that started to make their way towards them.

He nudged at Henry, motioning towards a long haired redhead with huge tits; she jumped up and down excitedly, giving life to her enormous jugs that nearly popped out of her low cut crop top, making the guys smile more in anticipation. Henry nodded his head in approval, liking the choice. Y/N rolled her eyes in disdain, eyeing the woman closely now. Her forehead was lined in sweat from the jumping she did to catch the guys’ attention, although, in all honesty, she really didn’t have to try too hard. It was blatantly obvious that the guys only paid attention to her tits, if anything, she used it to her advantage.

Y/N thought about how pathetic the whole scene was, and how the woman had to stoop to her physical appearance to catch and hold their attention. But, such was the way of things, she supposed.

The first of the fans came up, introducing themselves as they requested their autographs, taking a few pictures and purchasing signed merchandise from the workers. It wasn’t difficult to be friendly with the fans that came up to her; they complimented her on her style, her looks or skills, saying that they hoped she would stay in the band.

 _I hope so too_ , she thought somewhat nervously as she continued to sign posters for the fans, sharing friendly conversation with them as she did her best to integrate herself with the boys, showing the fans that she belonged there.

She found that the boys, although there was tension between them, kept their interactions civil and family like within each other. Vic and Belch were friendly towards their fans, Henry was the guy that acted like a total rockstar… but Patrick, his smile was still that of a predator. Every single person that came up to him radiated an aura of unease, wondering if they should approach him. And when they did, the discomfort in their faces grew, except for those of the groupies… they simply twirled their hair and giggled at his innuendos, ignoring the fact that the guitarist looked like he wanted to tear them apart and eat them alive, both figuratively and literally.

Y/N rolled her eyes whenever she saw the exchange, she’d done minor touring with her previous bands and knew that these girls were only interested in one thing. The prospect of fucking a rock star was something revered among these women; and she tried her best not to be judgemental towards them, but, it was difficult not to especially when the redhead from before lingered a little too long around Henry and Patrick. Y/N had to clear her throat, loudly, and stare down the woman to set her on her way. The girl introduced herself to the guys before she left, though Y/N didn’t pay attention long enough to learn the bitch’s name.

The signing lasted for a few hours, and once it had ended Y/N stretched in relief, having made it through her first meet and greet. She eyed Patrick as he quickly made his way towards the redhead girl he spotted earlier, casually placing a hand on her waist. Oddly enough, the woman was becoming a strain in Y/N’s eyes, and she felt a strange feeling of annoyance at the sight of her. It wasn’t her style to become jealous or put herself above anyone else, but this girl brought out the foreign feeling of envy out in her. She watched as Patrick slowly placed his long ringed fingers on her thigh, grazing it gently as they made their way towards the inside of her shorts. Y/N felt her heart rate increase, her jealousy was beginning to soar as she lit a cigarette to calm herself.

 _Why am I fucking jealous?_  She asked herself,  _The guy fucking hates my guts; I can’t fucking stand him. Get your shit together, Y/N._

She continued to berate herself, aggressively inhaling puffs of her cigarette as she tried to ignore the pair of assholes that were practically getting ready to fuck in front of everyone out in the open when Henry came up behind her, making her jump slightly as he spoke in a frustrated tone, “I didn’t get so lucky today.”

“You guys try to pick up girls at your meet and greets?” she asked, sounding more condescending than she meant to.

 _Fuck it_ , she thought, they’re fucking idiots anyways.

Henry shrugged, snatching the cigarette from her as he took a small drag, “Why the fuck not? They’re down to fuck most of the time; we need to get laid.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, snatching the cigarette back from him, “Don’t just snatch my cig from me you asshole, I don’t know where that fucking mouth as been.”

“It could have been in your pussy if you played your cards right,” he teased.

Y/N rolled her eyes at the prospect, “You guys think with the wrong head.”

“If we thought with our brains we wouldn’t get any pussy; these girls aren’t interested in a fucking scholar, and neither are we,” he explained, following her as she made her way towards the bus, walking past Vic, who was flirting with the security guard from earlier, “If they were then they wouldn’t be trying to get a piece of this cock.”

“If that’s the case, then how come you didn’t get lucky today?”

“Cause Patrick took the chick I wanted to fuck; no biggie, I’ll end up fucking her after him anyways.”

Y/N paused, the outrage clear in her voice,  _“What?_ ”

“We share,” Henry explained, scoffing at the prospect at having to explain it.

“I gathered, but  _why_?”

Henry tilted his head, “Why not? We both fuck the same chick, no hard feelings. Sometimes a girl doesn’t wanna fuck me, but she wants to fuck Patrick and he becomes the wingman, and vice versa.”

Y/N took a drag from her cigarette, swatting the smoke aside as she shook her head, “You guys are fucked up.”

“Maybe; but, anyways, I figured we could go for drinks,” he offered, leaning casually against the side of the tour bus.”

“What about your plans to fuck this chick after Patrick does?”

“They’ll be awhile,” he said as he ran his fingers through his untamed mullet, “Patrick likes to play with them.”

Still skeptical, Y/N tilted her head, “I’m still not fucking you, Bowers.”

Henry rolled his eyes as he lazily pushed himself off the bus, “ _If_  I was trying to fuck you, I wouldn’t be talking to you.”

He was face to face with her now, Y/N smirked skeptically at him, “Oh? So much confidence.”

“You’d be surprised,” he bragged, “Now get whatever shit you need and let’s get going. I wanna hit up this bar before the  _real_  party starts.”

“I’m ready,” she shrugged, looking down at her outfit. There wasn’t a problem with what she was wearing and she had everything she needed.

Henry chuckled, waving down a roadie and ordering them to take them to town. The roadie immediately reached into his pockets for a set of keys. Henry motioned for her to follow him, and she swiftly stalked behind him as they headed towards a black SUV, slightly abashed that Henry did a complete 180 in a matter of hours.

Still, she didn’t question it, knowing it was better to have Henry Bowers on her side then to have him against her.

All she had to worry about now was Patrick, and if there was anything she learned from the short time of knowing him, it was that he really didn’t want her in the band. She needed all the allies she could get, and if Henry wanted to have some drinks with her, then she sure as hell wasn’t going to turn him down.

 

* * *

 

Y/N watched in amusement as Henry downed his eighth beer of the night with a toss of his head, the gulps fast and impatient, almost as if he was dying of thirst and the only thing that could quench it was the foamy beer in the bottle. They’d only been at the local bar for half an hour, and he was starting at a fast pace, still sober, “You’re quite the heavyweight huh?”

He scoffed, smirking while he reached into the pocket of his denim vest and pulling out his cigarettes and lighter, “Very. Years of drinking will do that.”

Y/N finished her drink in one large gulp, setting the empty bottle in the bar counter. It was her own way of showing Henry that she could keep up with him. Henry noticed it and immediately ordered another one for her. Sensing her reluctance at his insistence that he pay, he scoffed as the bartender handed her a Shiner Bock, “Relax shug, you did good today; consider it a peace offering; besides we both know you’re broke as fuck.”

“I’m not broke,” she mumbled, taking a sip of the beer bottle. Henry eyed her with a look of skepticism, until Y/N continued, thinking about how the band’s other member would feel about her and Henry’s newfound acquaintanceship, “Patrick won’t like that.”

“Patrick doesn’t control everything we do,” he retorted, snorting slightly.

“Is that so?” she asked while her fingers fumbled for the lighter in her pocket. She lit a cigarette when she was finally able to grasp it, exhaling the smoke through her nose.

“Yeah,” he answered, flagging down the bartender again and ordering a few shots of whiskey, “He thinks he owns the band because he makes the music, but he doesn’t dictate what we all do. Case in point, your involvement in the band.”

“But you didn’t even want me in Mind Failure,” she said, taking the shot that Henry offered to her.

He gently tapped his own shot glass against hers, and they both immediately shot back the whiskey, the dark liquid slightly burning the back of her throat as she swallowed it. He set the glass down on the counter as he continued, “I didn’t at first, but, do you really think I let Vic, Belch and Johnny overrule  _me_? I didn’t want you in the band cause you’re a chick, but, I figured,  _‘fuck it, if she fucks up, we can always find another replacement.’_  Then you learned the songs, on your own, which was fucking impressive. I know I can be an asshole… but I give respect where it’s earned, and you’ve earned it.”

“Aren’t you and Patrick extremely tight?”

“Crazy motherfucker is my brother, but, you’re good for us, even if he doesn’t know it yet,” he smirked, handing her another glass, “To you.”

Y/N smirked, “To me.”

Henry scoffed, “Arrogant dick.”

“Stupid bitch,” she shot back.

Henry chuckled, handing her another shot. She smiled at him as she took down the whiskey.

For the next few hours, Y/N and Henry bonded over drinks, sharing their musical experiences, and Y/N explained to Henry how many bands she’s been, and how they all managed to fall apart before something solid could happen. She went into thorough detail about her last band, which happened to be the one band that she felt limited in her range of creative freedom.

Henry then began to share his own experience with his band, recalling the memories of his first and only band in its infancy and in its rise to stardom. She learned that Mind Failure was formed in the boys’ teenage years, with Patrick stealing his first guitar from a boy in school. Apparently, he practiced all day, every day, obsessed with mastering the instrument.

Henry explained how he not only mastered guitar, but a various amount of other instruments as well, becoming overcome with a thirst to create. Patrick was the one that suggested they start a band, and it wouldn’t have happened had Vic not spent the money to buy the guys their first instruments. From there, Patrick worked day and night to come up with material for the guys, and it became routine; Patrick wrote the lyrics, he wrote the music, he taught the guys how to play the music and they’ve lived by the same formula since then, and it worked.

“So, how did you guys manage to get a record deal?”

Henry shrugged, burping softly, “We had a good manager.”

Y/N crinkled her brows, and took a puff of her cigarette, “I doubt Johnny Ray was able to get you a record deal, especially with your track record.”

“Track record?”

“With the law,” Y/N finished, “You guys have a thing for getting in trouble alot.”

“You’re one to talk; weren’t you arrested for assault?”

Y/N smirked as she took a gulp of her beer, raising her brows at Henry’s call out. She knew full well that if Vic knew of her record, Henry would too. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise her if the rest of the members would as well. There was no need in keeping it secret, so she shrugged, admitting to the charge as she took another shot, “It was self defense.”

Henry tilted his head, his eyes fluttering slightly as he narrowed them, “Self defense my ass; point is, we get in a fuckton of trouble, but we rake in the cash for this bullshit record label. They saw that when they were signing us. We’re the best thing that happened to them.”

Y/N stared at him for a moment, “Well, you’re not wrong about that.”

“So, what’s the story with you?” Henry asked, pushing another shot towards her.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, tell me about yourself, Y/N; you’re going to be here with us, might as well know about you,” he said, prodding gently at her, which was shocking coming from one of Mind Failure’s known ruffians.

“So you’re planning on keeping me?”

“Yes, now answer the fucking question,” he pushed, a little harsher this time; he spoke the way someone who’s used to getting what he wants does. He waited, somewhat patiently for her to answer his question as he unwrapped a new pack of Marlboro Reds.

Y/N remained composed, stoic, as she tried not to let the churning emotions seep through. Her past wasn’t something she talked about, or liked to even think about. She lit another cigarette to try and calm her nerves, her breathing coming out in small pants as she tried to calm herself. She didn’t want to answer, and the fact that he  _expected_  her to answer his question made her a little snappy. Still, to humor the man, and to try to build a better relationship with him, she answered his question, vaguely, refusing to get into the details of her past, “I started playing music at a young age; I’m classically trained in piano. Picked up guitar later, and easily. Moved around a lot. Played in a ton of bands. That’s about it.”

Henry took a shot of whiskey, and then chased it with a long gulp of Guinness, “Tell me more about you, I know this shit about you already; Johnny made sure to send us your resume. I want to know your personal life.”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” she said, sternly. Her eyes narrowed and hard.

Henry stared at her for a long moment, analyzing her. It was strange to be picked apart by Henry Bowers. From what she gathered, Patrick was he one that liked to pick people apart. To see Henry doing it was… baffling. He raised his brows and scoffed, “Alright. We won’t talk about it.”

With that, he dropped the subject and moved on to talk about how the tour was going to go. If she was still up for being in the band, she would be the first “temporary” member to record on their next studio album. A prospect that excited her; she’s done studio recording, but never with a band that was held in high regard like Mind Failure.

As the drinks kept coming, the drunkenness followed. Henry began to get louder, and Y/N fed the fire; both of them being the loudest in the bar.

Of course, it was only a matter of time until that loudness caught the attention of another patron. It wasn’t unexpected, honestly, just surprising.

Y/N noticed him staring from the other end of the bar counter, at times, catching his gaze only to have him smirk and lick his lips. The last time he did it, she licked her lips seductively, tasting the aftermath of the lime and salt from the shots of tequila Henry ordered moments ago. He smiled at her, nodding in approval, until Y/N quickly flipped him off with a less than amused expression.

She turned to meet Henry’s gaze as he went on about Patrick, “I don’t know if he’ll warm up to you— but one can hope.”

Recovering from the interaction with the other parton in the bar, a question came to mind about Patrick Hockstetter, something that she observed in the few interactions they’ve shared, and from how he has treated other people, particularly groupies, “Is he always so… creepy?”

Henry tilted his head, squinting his eyes and rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to come up with a response for Patrick’s behavior, “Patrick is— Patrick. I don’t know how else to describe the idiot,” he chuckled slightly as he recalled a memory, “He’s the kind of guy that’ll snort cocaine off a hookers ass crack, then fuck her raw before telling her to fuck off because the sight of her disgusts him.”

“Maybe he wants something more,” she suggested, recalling the night she saw Patrick wide awake in his bunk on the tour bus when she was practicing the songs.

Henry snorted, “Patrick _does_ want more, but I don’t think it’s what you think.”

“Hey baby,” a deep voice called from behind them.

Y/N rolled her eyes, turning to meet the man’s stare. Up close, the man that was staring at her for the majority of the night turned out to be semi good looking. His dark brown hair was pushed back with a large amount of gel and hairspray to hold it together, his dark brown beard was well kept, and a small dimple dented only his left cheek as he smirked at her. Deep green eyes glimmered softly as his eyes raked her up and down.

“I’m not your fucking baby.”

Ignoring her comment, he proceeded to squeeze himself between her and Henry, flashing a flirtatious smile her way.

“I’m Rob.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at the his voice, ignoring any kind of eye contact with this fucking asshole. She avoided Rob’s stare, opting to observe him from the long mirror that was placed in panels over the shelves of liquor behind the bar. She watched as Rob glanced over to Henry, taking in the bassists unkempt mullet, and seeming unfazed by the stone cold look on his face. He turned back to Y/N motioning towards Henry, “You here with this guy?”

“Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but yes,” she snapped, her irritation growing, “Now fuck off.”

Rob, ignoring what Y/N said, proceeded to plant his hand on her waist, prompting her to stiffen and immediately jump off the stool. She pointed her forefinger at him, the paint of polish on her nail slightly chipped, her anger now contorting her face in a fit of outrage as she spat, “Don’t you  _ever_  lay a fucking hand on me, you son of a bitch!”

“Or what?”

Without hesitation, Henry took a shot of his glass, giving Y/N a knowing gaze before he brought his bottle of beer down on Rob’s head, shards of glass flew everywhere as the beer that was left in the bottle drenched his shoulders and chest in a yeasty stench. He groaned in pain, grasping his head as he leaned on the edge of the bar counter shouting in anger, “Fuck! You’re fucking dead, bitch! Ethan, David, get ‘em!”

In an instant, a group of guys, presumably Rob’s crew, were on Henry; a flurry of fists pounding his body while a thin guy with a backwards baseball cap on his head and a slightly athletic, olive skinned, short guy with dirty blonde hair held Henry back, while two other men attacked Henry. The guy with the baseball cap grunted as Henry struggled to release himself from his hold, he looked over to the blonde guy, shouting, “God damn it, David, hold him!”

“Fuck you, Ethan, I’m fucking trying!” David grunted back towards the guy with the baseball cap, Ethan.

Her instincts kicked in immediately upon watching her bandmate and friend get jumped, the tingling in her hands set in right away. Without a second thought, she jumped towards the group of men crowding Henry and threw a punch randomly as hard as she could. It didn’t matter if it was construed as a sucker punch, these motherfuckers were ganging up on Henry, and she’d be damned if she let them try to fuck him up in front of her. Her fist connected on the face of a guy with a flannel shirt and shaggy, curly brown hair with a burly build. The man she struck turned around and grabbed a fistful of her hair, prompting Y/N to release a snarl of rage. Hair pulling was for bitches, and this big motherfucker was obviously a bitch.

Her hands clenched into fists and she aimed for his stomach, landing a hard blow into him and kicking him in his crotch area, causing him to hunch over as he released a grunt of agony. She quickly kneed him in the face, hearing a vague crack from his nose as a geyser of blood spewed from it.

Henry dragged David along the bar counter, his face contorted with a primal rage while David shouted at the feeling of shards of glass scraping the side of his face, he used his arms to try to shield himself from them, but to no avail. Henry tossed him over the side of the bar, hearing the crash of his body as he hit the floor on the other side hard. Ethan called to the other two men that punched Henry as he was being held back, “Ian, Dorian, let’s get the motherfucker!”

Ethan, Ian and Dorian all grabbed Henry from behind, trying their hardest to incapacitate the rage that filled Henry, and struggling as Henry thrashed violently. Y/N swiftly grabbed a bottle that sat on the counter by the neck and smacked Ian, who was closest to her, on the side of the head with it; like Rob, he fell to the ground while he emitted a cry of pain.

She saw as one of the guys with short brown hair stalked behind Henry, a glass ashtray held firmly in his hand, “Henry!”

She shouted, warning the enraged blonde; Henry turned quickly, barely avoiding the heavy ashtray. Y/N watched from the mirror as Ethan came up from behind her and clenched his arms around her chest, keeping her in a vice grip, cutting off her air supply. She brought her head forward, lowering it so her chin touched her chest, she quickly slammed it back to hit her captors face with all of her strength. His grip loosened and she took the chance to break free. The freedom was short lived, however, as a searing pain met her jaw and forced her to stumble, jarred by the swift attack from the nasty right hook he inflicted on her.

He immediately pounced on her, pushing her to the glass covered floor, swinging a flurry of punches onto her body and her face, but the pain was nothing to her however and she used this upper hand to her advantage as she quickly brought up her hands to his face, grabbing hold of his large head and dug her thumbs into his eyes, bringing her nails down on his face as tiny trails of blood followed. He screamed in agony, grabbing hold of his face while Y/N took the opportunity to land three quick, but hard jabs onto his nose and mouth. A small fountain of blood dripped from his nose to her face, and she quickly slid from his hold, using a stool to help her stand and regain her balance.

The bar was in complete chaos, people scattered to leave while some stood back and watched as others joined in the fray. Within moments, Y/N was pulled off Ethan by rough hands as she kicked him continuously in his stomach.

Y/N was tossed towards the counter, her back hitting the edge and sending an sharp jolt of pain up her spine. She locked eyes with Rob, who had now recovered from the bottle he took on the head. He stalked towards her, raising his hands to bring them down on her, until Henry came up behind him, grasped the back of his shirt and slammed him on the counter.

Henry was quickly pulled away by the brunette asshole, who refused to go down without a fight, even though he was beaten to a bloody pulp. Before Rob could recover however, Y/N turned her attention to him and began to relentlessly slam his face against the bar counter.

Y/N vaguely made sense of shouts coming from the entrance of the bar, and suddenly, she was thrown on the ground with a knee pressed sharply against her back while her arms were brought behind her. Henry was tossed on the floor next to her, his face still contorted with fury at the fact of being torn away from the fight.

He thrashed against the hold of the officer, throwing his head to the side, dragging his chin through the muck and glass that littered the floor before he caught sight of Y/N beside him. Together, they caught a breath, the tension dissipating and electric excitement of their brawl waning. Henry’s lips tugged into a broad grin, the both of them sharing a crazed look and erupting into a fit laughter as handcuffs were slapped on their wrists, their clothes and faces bloody, deranged smiles filled with adrenaline from the fight that took place moments earlier.

When she was pulled to her feet, she caught a glimpse of the people in the bar holding their phones out, snapping pictures and recording.

Y/N barely paid mind to the officers as they recited their rights to Henry and herself, hauling them out of the bar when she caught sight of Rob sitting upright, staring daggers at her. She spat on the floor in front of him, returning his wrathful glare, her rage still fresh as she shouted at him while he was tended to by an EMT, “Punk ass bitch!”

Henry, who struggled against the officer’s hold shouted obscenities as they dragged him to the police car, “FUCK YOU ALL! FUCKING PIGS!”

The officers proceeded to throw Henry against the brick wall as they exited the building, he released a grunt of pain as they pressed their weight against him, causing Y/N’s rage to amplify once more at the treatment of her friend,  “YOU DON’T HAVE TO FUCKING SLAM HIM LIKE THAT YOU MOTHERFUCKER!”

“Shut the fuck up!” the officer that held her snarled, jerking her towards the brick wall beside Henry.

Still pumped from the adrenaline of the fight, Y/N retorted, “Or what?! What the fuck are you going to do?!”

The police officer, who was in his mid 40’s with a close buzz cut, rammed Y/N against the wall, causing her head to hit the hard surface with a nasty crunch. He pressed his hand right around her throat, squeezing tightly and cutting off most of her air supply, “Not so tough now are you?”

“Fuck you,” Y/N wheezed with a seething glare, bringing her leg back and kicking him as hard as she possibly could between his legs.

Henry barked a laugh, squinting his eyes as his face was pressed against the rough surface of the building, the building’s chipped brick cut into his smooth skin, causing a minor scrape on his cheek, “Seems like your balls aren’t either.”

The officer that held Henry against the wall pressed his face harder against the surface, the patrons in the bar running out with their phones to record the whole ordeal. Upon watching the onlookers crowd around them, Henry laughed harder, disregarding the pain in his face as he tried to catch his breath, “Oh you guys are fucked. You’re  _extremely_  fucked.”

Y/N smirked at him knowingly as she was pulled away from the wall, the metal of the cuffs on her wrists digging deeply into her sweaty skin. The officer shoved her into the back of a squad car, not taking into consideration that he smacked her head against the roof of the cop car, although, she was sure it was intentional.

Moments after, the car came to life and she sighed. She knew that she was definitely on Henry’s good side now, but on the other hand she also knew that she was officially in deep trouble with Vic and Johnny Ray. Belch would probably be upset, and Patrick wouldn’t give a shit. But, that didn’t mean it wouldn’t stop him from trying to use it to his advantage.

 _Fuck_ , she thought, leaning her head against the seat; turning her back towards the window as she sat up to flip the finger at the crowd of onlookers that continued to record.

 

* * *

 

“You’re lucky that the company has the city’s best lawyer on call, otherwise you would have gotten sent to jail for the shit you and Henry pulled,” Johnny lectured over FaceTime.

“The fucking asshole started it,” Henry drawled, defending Y/N, “He was all over Y/N, what was I supposed to do?”

“Leave her the fuck alone, she’s a big girl, she can deal with shit on her own,” Patrick interjected, giving Y/N a condescending side eye, not even bothering to make full eye contact with her.

Before Y/N could interject, Henry spoke up, “I could have said the same thing about  _you_  all those times shit went down at a bar.”

Patrick leaned forward from his seat at the table, pushing the red headed groupie on his lap off of him, chuckling when she hit the floor with a loud thud. His expression, if it could be called that, was blank when he met Henry’s gaze, his grey green eyes were hard when he spoke to the bassist in a low and threatening tone, “Same for you, point is, she doesn’t belong here–”

“Fuck off, Patrick,” Henry cut him off, earning him a nasty glare from the shaggy haired guitarist, “You’ve been overruled, you can bitch all you want but she’s here to stay.”

The silence in the lounge area of the tour bus was deafening, even Johnny Ray remained silent throughout the whole ordeal. The tension in the air continued to build as the two men stared at each other, neither of them refusing to back down. Henry’s body was stiff, as if he was preparing himself for yet another fight.

Y/N readied herself for one as well, she and Henry fucked up a group of guys on their own hours earlier; they didn’t walk out without a scratch, but they held their own. If they could take on a gang of assholes, they could deal with the lanky son of a bitch that was Patrick Hockstetter.  _Right?_

She thought about the day before, and how Patrick seemed to thrive on the violence, laughing at it as if it was all a game to him.

Her eyes fell on the red head groupie that kept her place on the floor, watching the same interaction unfold in front of her. In an attempt to act nonchalant and uninterested in the situation, she adjusted her crop top, fixing her tits so they looked round and perky as they peeked out from the top. She ran a hand through her hair with her red manicured fingernails, causing Y/N’s animosity for the groupie to build.

She felt the urge to reach out and strangle her by her red hair, but her attention was focused back to the men still having the stare down.

Patrick’s eyes darkened as he analyzed the situation in front of him, his focus was Henry, and then it fell on Y/N.

To say that she was intimidated by the man would be a lie, but there was a look about him that made her feel a tinge of fear; it was the way he stared at her, like he was going to tear her apart. She didn’t know him too well, but she could see the wheels turning in his head, as if she insulted him right there and he was going to destroy her.

He slowly got to his feet, stepping over the groupie who stared after him with a pout, as he exited the tour bus with an eerie calmness. The guys all exchanged looks with each other, prompting Vic to speak up, “He’ll get over it.”

“I don’t know who the hell you’re trying to fool but it sure as hell ain’t us,” Belch said, turning to speak to Henry, “He’s not going to forget this, you know.”

“Fuck him; if his bitch ass has a problem, we can throw down anytime, otherwise, he can keep his mouth shut and keep writing the fucking songs,” Henry retorted, lighting a joint as he stalked over towards the groupie, who smiled at him seductively, “In the meantime, I’m gonna fuck the shit out of this girl,” he turned to speak to big tits McEntire directly now, “Did Hockstetter wear you out or do you have some fuck left in you?”

“For the guys of Mind Failure, always,” she answered in her high pitched voice as she jumped up and followed after Henry, causing Y/N to cringe at the sound.

“Henry, we’re not done–” Johnny started, but he was immediately cut off as the door to the bunk room slammed shut. Johnny Ray sighed in frustration, rubbing his face until he finally locked eyes with Y/N, “We saw the videos that were posted on YouTube; the cops used excessive force and the company lawyer is working on getting you off on self defense, the both of you.”

“What about the issue with Brian?” Vic asked.

Johnny Ray sighed again, “It doesn’t seem that their stories are straight, and there was a witness who says they saw them provoke Patrick the night before the fight. Might I suggest that in the meantime, you all stay out of trouble? And keep the fucking partying to a minimum.”

“Can’t speak for Bowers and Hockstetter, but, we’ll try,” Belch said, pushing his cap off of his head and running a hand through his short chocolate locks.

Johnny Ray nodded, meeting Y/N’s eyes, “And same goes for you, Y/N; don’t think I don’t know about your habits.”

Y/N clicked her tongue, crossing her arms as she leaned back on the couch, “What habits?”

Vic smirked softly beside her as Johnny rolled his eyes, “Point is, try to stay out of trouble as much as you can while we sort these charges out on our end, hopefully, the label won’t cancel the tour once they see the ticket sales; the way things are going, we predict an increase.”

“Let’s hope your prediction is right, I heard we’re on thin ice with the label,” Vic breathed, his forehead creasing with uncertainty and worry.

“You let me worry about that Vic, they won’t get rid of us that easy,” Johnny replied with an air of authority, “I have to go now, behave yourselves you fucking delinquents, and keep an eye on Hockstetter.”

The screen went black as Vic reached for his iPhone and began scrolling through Facebook; news of Henry and Y/N’s arrest was already making headlines, and the fact that Mind Failure had gotten involved in an altercation with Black Sunday was all over the internet as well, causing the blonde to groan, “Fucking shit.”

“The label won’t drop us, Vic,” Belch assured, handing him his cigarette, which Vic took between his fingers gratefully. He took a long, smooth drag, slowly blowing smoke circles out of his perfect lips as he exhaled, “We make too much money for them, and with Y/N around, we’ll be raking in more cash.”

“I’m not worried about the label,” Vic sighed, putting down his iPhone, “I’m worried about Hockstetter.”

“Why?” Y/N asked, finally breaking her spell of silence since she was bailed out. She was drunk, and all those days of sleep deprivation from practicing Mind Failure’s songs were now catching up to her, causing her to feel groggy and out of touch.

Belch and Vic locked eyes for a moment, until Belch finally spoke up, “Pat and Henry are really close, in case you didn’t know; and the fact that Henry spoke up for you is seen as a betrayal in Pat’s eyes.”

“He doesn’t own everything,” Y/N said, mirroring the words that Henry spoke to her hours earlier.

Vic and Belch shared another look, as Belch continued, “Y/N, Pat isn’t going to let this go, you need to be careful. God knows what he would do.”

“I’ve handled worse than Patrick Hockstetter,” she said casually, taking a swig of whiskey from the bottle that was casually tossed on the floor as thoughts of her past creeped into her mind, tendrils of the men that tore her down left just as suddenly as they came.

“I seriously doubt that,” Vic muttered. Y/N, who had her head leaned back against the couch, turned to eye the angelic blonde. Her brows furrowed upon closer inspection of the vocalist… there was  _fear_  in his eyes, he tapped his foot in anxiousness while he continued, “Patrick isn’t like anyone you know, Y/N. The shit you read about online, that’s nothing compared to shit that he’s done, he and Henry once–”

He was cut short suddenly, and she took note of the sharp glance from Belch before he completely wiped it off, replacing it with the fakest smile she had seen. Y/N crunched her brows together, “He and Henry once…?”

“Nothing,” Belch cut in before Vic could answer, “Don’t worry about it, Y/N. You just worry about kicking ass and doing what you gotta do. Now,” he paused, standing up and stretching, “I’m going to let these groupies back in here so we can party.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the responsible one?”

“I need to unwind every now and then, Y/N,” he shrugged, opening the door to the tour bus, thus allowing the ravenous groupies to pile into the lounging area, shouting and laughing flirtatiously. Belch, who had his arms wrapped around a brunette, continued, “I suggest you do the same. You’re going to need it.”

“I already unwound,” she mumbled to herself, lighting a joint as a girl in her mid 20’s with bright blue hair sat next to her, staring at her flirtatiously. Y/N ignored her, thinking of the night that took place; the fight, spending an hour in a holding cell, and the shouts of the tour manager as he demanded Y/N and Henry’s release.

Y/N inhaled the smoke of the joint deeply, relaxing her mind as she stayed planted in her spot. As the night continued to progress, she continued smoking joints and cigarettes, drinking beer and whiskey. She casually spoke to the groupies in the tour bus to pass the time. Although the groupies were mostly women, she didn’t overlook the fact that some male groupies were allowed in as well, she guessed it was mostly for Vic and her leisure.

But, Y/N wasn’t interested in any of that. Sure, she fraternized with the people in the bus; despite what she thought about them, she didn’t want to come off as a pretentious asshole that was above everyone, because she wasn’t. She was a slug on the face of the Earth just as they were.

That wasn’t to say that she was interested in a one night stand with a complete stranger. It took her a long time, and plenty of self discipline to get her out of her promiscuous ways, and it wasn’t easy. She stared with wanting towards the men and the women in the lounge as they danced, laughed and flirted with Belch and Vic, and eventually, Henry, when he tumbled out of the bunk room with the big breasted red head Reba fucking McEntire to examine the fresh meat in the tour bus.

The urges she had within her were strong, and overwhelming. She wanted to feel something, anything. Y/N shut her eyes tight, ignoring the feelings churning inside of her, continuing to talk in a distant manner with the woman next to her, lighting another joint to relax herself and closing her eyes to ignore the temptation that took place around her.

 

* * *

 

The shouts and moans from the bunk room echoed through the bus as Henry fucked the brains out of yet another groupie, or was it two? At this point, it didn’t matter, and she didn’t care. Belch was passed out at the small table in the lounge, while Vic sat next to her watching a documentary on Animal Planet.

“I fucking love documentaries,” Vic drawled, his voice lazy as the night took its toll on him.

Y/N’s tired eyes stared at the bright screen, unfazed that the door to the tour bus opened and slammed shut behind the tall, lanky guitarist that was M.I.A most of the night.

Through her peripherals, she watched Patrick as he reached into the refrigerator and grabbed a large bottle of vodka from the stash of liquor that was stored inside. He placed the bottle on the counter momentarily while he reached for a glass, carelessly kicking one of the groupies on the side of the head that was passed out on the floor.

She caught note of the hard glance that was shot towards her. Y/N sighed deeply, lighting another cigarette to alleviate whatever tension she was feeling now, she had already had a rough night trying to withhold her temptation to fuck the shit out of everyone and anyone in the tour bus, and right now she was not in the mood to fight with the rail thin narcissistic asshole.

The TV continued to glow in the darkness, Patrick’s noise in the background did little to distract her from the image on the TV, which was now making her skin crawl, “I fucking hate roaches.”

Vic nodded stupidly next to her, his mouth hanging open in disgust as the show host continued to touch hissing roaches in his hands like it was the best thing ever.

She thought she heard a vague chuckle coming from the lounge area where the fridge was, but when she turned to look, Patrick was already finished filling his glass with vodka and was now making his way back outside. He didn’t even bother to shoot her one of his token superior glances towards her when he walked out of the tour bus once more.

Y/N waited for the door to snap shut to ask Vic, “Where does he go?”

“Fuck if I know,” Vic answered, snatching the cigarette from Y/N’s fingers, “I stopped trying to unlock the rubik’s cube that is Patrick’s mind years ago.”

A sudden thought came to Y/N’s mind, she glanced over at Vic, whose gaze was still concentrated on the television show in front him. His eyes were droopy from the mixture of drugs and alcohol in his system, “Vic, what was that shit you were talking about earlier? About Henry and Patrick?”

Vic tensed so suddenly, she saw the stiffness in his arms and torso when she asked her question. It was sudden, though, and he quickly regained his composure, “I am only going to say this Y/N, and I don’t want this topic brought up ever again, especially in front of Henry and Patrick.”

Y/N stretched out her legs, resting them on the ass of a groupie that was asleep on her stomach, “Alright.”

Vic inhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair as he took a long drag from the cigarette, forgetting the fact that it originally belonged to Y/N. But, rather than dwell on it, she lit her own and sat back, waiting for Vic to say what he needed to. When he was ready, his stare was intense, the deep pools of brown smoldering while he calculated what he was going to say, “All you need to know, Y/N, is that Henry and Patrick did the shit they had to do to get us where we are. It wasn’t something we all agreed on, or were involved in; but Patrick and Henry wanted this badly, and they refused to let anyone stand in their way.”

Y/N furrowed her brows at his choice of words.

He said  _anyone_ , not  _anything_.

She wondered what he meant by that, but she knew better than to push further; Vic said more than what he was supposed to, and the last thing she wanted was for him to get in trouble for her curiosity. While she was lost in her thoughts about what he meant, Vic made himself comfortable, throwing his head back, “That’s why I’m saying to be careful with Hockstetter; not even _I_  know what he’s capable of.”

Y/N took Vic’s words into consideration as she laid back on the couch. It was already too late for her and Patrick to make peace, so, rather than dwelling on it, she shrugged the warning off her shoulders and continued to watch the remainder of the documentary; her mind raced continuously with the day’s events and Vic’s words, lulling her into a strange and dreamless sleep.

 

* * *

 

Y/N woke up the next day to the sounds of shuffling and shouting; her blurry eyes tried to adjust to the sunlight that was shining in through the windows and the door as Henry pushed the groupies out of the tour bus.

“Come on bitches, you gotta get out of here,” he spoke in a loud, but firm voice.

The groupies protested, hoping they could stay for another night; Vic quickly shut them down, however, “Sorry ladies, and gents, we got shit to do and another show to play.”

There was more protesting and whining from the group of men and women, all of them promising more sexual favors if they were allowed to stay on the bus. Y/N, whose irritation began to elevate, sat forward, clutching the sides of her head before she finally snapped at the sound of the discount Reba McEntire’s pitchy voice, “For the love of god, just get the fuck out of here! I swear to  _fuck_ if I have to get up and make you assholes leave, I’m going to kick someone’s fucking ass!”

Henry, Vic and Belch, all stared at her with looks of surprise in their eyes; Belch was the first to recover from his shock and gently usher the group out of the tour bus, promising them that if they were first in line for the next meet and greet, then they’d get to spend the night with them again.

Vic shut the door silently after the bus was empty, “Well, not the way I would have handled it, but effective.”

“What time are we on today?” she asked, rubbing her eyes as she sighed in blissful relief at the sound of silence.

Henry jumped onto the couch beside her, placing his smelly, and obviously unwashed feet on her lap. Y/N observed the hard callus on the heels of his feet and the yellow toenails in disgust as he snapped a picture of her with his phone, “We’re on at noon again shug, you might wanna get your shit ready.”

“I’m surprised you’re not bitching about a hangover today,” Y/N commented to Henry as Vic handed her a cup of black coffee.

“I got laid, I’m in a good mood,” he retorted, smiling happily, “You might wanna do the same thing now and again, get some of those pussy juices flowing; looks like you’re backed up. I’d offer to fuck you, but with the way you are, I have a feeling I’d get my teeth knocked out when you start to cum.”

Y/N took a sip of her coffee, clenching her fist and jamming it into Henry’s thigh, “Ow, fuck! I swear, woman, you need some dick inside of you.”

“ _You_  might get one if you don’t shut your mouth, Bowers,” she casually replied.

Henry peeked out from behind his phone to give her the world’s ugliest glare, “Them’s is fightin’ words.”

“What are you waiting for?” she countered easily, clearly amused.

“Guys, chill,” Vic interfered, though from the sound of his voice and the smile on his face, he knew that the banter was nothing but playful, “Y/N, get ready, we need you tip top today, you did good yesterday, and we need you to bring your A game, we’re expecting a larger crowd today.”

“I thought tickets were pre sold,” Y/N said, stretching and pushing Henry’s smelly, calloused feet off of her lap as she stood with the mug of coffee clenched in her hand.

“They are, but they’re also still sold up to the day of the show, and it looks like today’s, as well as the remaining tour dates, are sold out.”

Henry and Y/N both stopped what they were doing to stare at Vic. Henry was the first to speak up, “In that short amount of time? We haven’t even released a new album…”

“No, but it looks like your antics with Y/N and the fight with Black Sunday got us some more attention, and curiosity; our YouTube videos, as well as our Spotify page has increased in followers and views,” Vic said, trying to hide the excitement in his voice.

“Fuck yeah!” Henry shouted, jumping up and grabbing Y/N in a chokehold hug, pressing his knuckles on her head to give her a noogie. Y/N succeeded in shoving him off as he continued to speak, “I need to take you out with me more often.”

“If you can hang, then I’m up for anything,” Y/N smirked, heading towards the bunks. It was quiet, and it reeked of sex and alcohol. She rolled her eyes at the used condoms tossed carelessly on the floor, “Fucking shit, Henry! You could have at least picked up your fucking condoms you sick son of a bitch!”

“Those aren’t mine,” he called from the lounge.

“Then whose are they?!”

“Probably Pat’s, he came in late last night and fucked the shit out of some groupies before he took off,” Henry said behind her, holding a bowl of cereal in his hand as he stared at the cum filled condoms on the floor, laughing softly with amusement, “Get used to it, shug, this shit is the norm for Hockstetter. We like to pretend they’re land mines, and if you step on ‘em you die.”

Y/N furrowed her brows at Henry, scowling as she shook her head, “Fucking idiots.”

Still, she tiptoed over the condoms thrown on the floor, making her way towards her bunk to retrieve her toiletries. Henry stood at the doorway, shoveling spoonfuls of Fruit Loops into his mouth as he watched her in amusement, “Ten bucks says you’ll step on one.”

“Fuck off, Henry,” Y/N growled as she tiptoed her way back to the stack of drawers in the corner of the bunk room, carefully avoiding the landmines. She placed her bottle of shampoo and conditioner on the drawers, the surfaces rough and worn down by abuse and ringed from beer bottles that had been left out for too long. She pulled her designated drawer open and reached in for an outfit to wear for the day.

Lazily, she moved her neatly folded stack of shirts aside, searching for the day’s outfit. She  jumped in surprise when she felt something out of place amidst her pile of carefully chosen shirts. Her brows furrowed at the sensation of a slippery, almost greasy surface. Upon closer inspection, her eyes caught sight of something skittering over her shirts. Her pulse raced when she was able to identify what she had touched.

Y/N warily lifted her pile of shirts slightly, shrieking when she realized that there were roaches scattered all over her clothes, both surprised and disgusted by the sight. She had lived in roach infested houses before, and seeing them among her carefully folded clothing brought back very unpleasant memories of those displeasing times; slightly recalling all the times she had to viciously scrub her body raw every morning after she slept because they crawled over her in her sleep. Angrily, and in overwhelming repulsiveness, she shouted as she held her hands out in disgust, “What the fuck?!”

Henry waltzed over to her side, taking in the scene in front of him, “Did you  _really_ have to bring those with you?”

Y/N stood back near the door frame, her eyes were wide as she stared at the ceiling, trying to focus on anything but the insects skittering in the drawers. Vic, who was scrolling through his phone, made his way over to the bunk room, a look of concern crossing his smooth features, “Is everything alright?”

“Y/N brought roaches with her,” Henry answered simply.

“Fuck off, Henry; those were not there when I put my shit away the other day!” Y/N seethed, trembling slightly at the sight of them as she lowered her head to catch another glimpse, immediately regretting it as she saw them continue to crawl over her belongings.

“It’s no biggie, we can just get Johnny to send someone out and get this shit fixed and cleaned while we play our set,” Vic said calmly, gently patting her back as he dialed Johnny’s number on his iPhone.

“I fucking  _hate_  roaches,” Y/N spat, rubbing her face while Vic spoke to Johnny in the background.

“Relax, sugar tits, you can borrow one of my shirts if it fucks with you that much,” Henry offered, unfazed by the scene in front of him. He set his bowl of cereal down on the old dresser and  reached in, pulling out a pair of torn black shorts, shaking them off to make sure they were free of any bugs, “These look fine.”

“I don’t want to–”

“Don’t be a bitch, Y/N. There’s worse shit out there than this crap,” he chastised, tossing the shorts to her and casually grabbing his bowl of cereal, mindlessly flicking a small roach that crawled along the side of the bowl with his finger, “Vic and Johnny will take care of it.”

Y/N nodded, watching as Henry carelessly walked through the minefield of condoms towards his  bunk, motioning for her to follow. Y/N carefully tiptoed through the small walkway once again as Henry rummaged through the pile of clothes that sat in the corner of the bed. He pulled out a shirt, sniffing it before tossing it to her, “How’s that?”

“It’s fine,” Y/N smiled softly, not even bothering to look at it, “Sorry I bitched out over there.”

“It happens,” he shrugged, nonchalantly.

Y/N turned to exit the bunk room, when something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She paused in her steps, narrowing her eyes as she leaned towards her own bunk, observing something off about it that she didn’t notice the first time around when she grabbed her toiletries. Her stomach lurched in disgust at the thought of what the stains on her sheets could be, “Henry, what does that look like to you?”

She hoped to whatever god was out there that he wouldn’t answer the way she thought he would. Henry leaned in and inspected the stains on Y/N’s dark blankets, “That looks like dried up DNA,” he turned towards her, furrowing his brows, “Did you rub one out last night?”

“Henry, I didn’t sleep in here last night,” she reminded him.

“Oh yeah, that’s right.”

“Where did Patrick fuck that groupie, Henry?”

“He–” his eyes widened at the realization, and he tried to suppress the laugh that was threatening to erupt from his chest as he spoke, “Oh… ohh. _Dude_. That’s fucking sick.”

Vic suddenly entered the room, speaking as he did so, “Johnny says an exterminator will be in here within the hour, so we need to get ready and head out; then a cleaning lady will come in to pick up the– what’s going on?”

Y/N shut her eyes tightly as she gripped wooden part of the bunk, “Hockstetter.”

“What about Hockstetter? What happened? What’s going on?”

“HOCKSTETTER!” She repeated, the rage wafting off her in clear waves, furious as she snarled the name.

“He fucked some bitch on Y/N’s bed, and smeared his cum all over her shit,” Henry answered as Y/N seethed.

“I am going to… kick his fucking ass,” Y/N said through clenched teeth, getting ready to stomp out of the bunk room.

Vic immediately blocked the way, however, refusing to let Y/N pass, “Hold on now, Y/N, you don’t want to do anything stupid.”

“I  _really_  do.”

“Y/N–”

“I’m going to cut his dick off and stick it in his ass so he can literally  _fuck himself!_ ”

“He’d probably enjoy it.” Henry said, pushing his way through the barrier that Vic created and shoveling another spoonful of cereal into his mouth as he strode out of the room.

“Not helping, Hen,” Vic called after him. He turned back to Y/N, who was now leaning against the end of the bunks, puffing on a cigarette, “This is what he wants, Y/N. He wants you to do something stupid so he can get you kicked out of the band.”

“I’m not going to let him get away with this, Vic.” she retorted, the anger weighing on her voice heavily, she didn’t even try to conceal it.

“You’re going to have to,” he replied, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, making her tense up slightly. She knew better than to consider Vic as a predator, though. Still, the touch was still alien to her and it would take her awhile to get used to it. She shrugged off the uncomfortable feeling of being touched, focusing on her anger at Patrick.

“Why?” she asked, outraged.

“Because then he wins; he knows that he doesn’t have our support on getting you kicked out, and now he’s targeting you directly,” he answered, “Look, you don’t have to get along with him, that’s asking for too much, but please, don’t let him antagonize you. Don’t give him what he wants, Y/N.”

Y/N’s eyes locked on Vic’s. He was sincere in his words, and she knew for a fact that he wanted her to stay. Sensing her reluctance, Vic continued, “The cleaning lady is coming today, we’ll have her wash your clothes and I’ll let you borrow some of my blankets, Patrick won’t fuck with your shit if he knows it belongs to me.”

“But I shouldn’t have to–”

“No, you shouldn’t, it’s fucked up, it’s unfair, and I really am sorry,” he said, “But, if you really want to stay in the band, then you’re going to have to put up with shit that you really don’t want to. Eventually, he’ll lose interest and accept the fact that you’re not going anywhere…  _are you_?”

Y/N stared down at the condoms on the floor, the disgust she felt in her stomach earlier returned again upon watching a roach crawl towards one of them and begin to feast on Patrick’s dried up seed. She shut her eyes, sighing heavily as she answered, “No, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” Vic smiled, gently rubbing her shoulders.

“I’m 90 percent sure he’s responsible for the roaches too,” she informed, taking a long drag of her cigarette.

“He’ll deny it, but, Belch and I will have a talk with him about it, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Now, get ready; we got a long, busy day ahead of us, there’s a few reporters that want to talk to us after our set,” he said in a soft tone, gently raising her chin up, “Keep your head up, babe, you can do this.

Y/N sighed, but eventually nodded, staring after the blonde as he walked off towards the lounge area, shouting for Belch through the front door to look for Patrick, and then turning around to lecture Henry on his slow routine.

“Fuck it,” Y/N whispered to herself, making her way to the messy shower on the tour bus.

Y/N was never one to lay down and take shit from anyone, she wasn’t one to stay silent either, so being passive now, was something that was foreign to her, and more than that, it was something that wounded her pride to the core.

Still, she told herself that Patrick Hockstetter would get the beating of a lifetime if he fucked with her again, and that was promise that she intended to keep.


	5. They Lost Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: There’s lots of fighting in this chapter, the usual violence. Drug usage. Alcohol use. Language. Sexual content.

The crowd that Mind Failure played for was just as receptive as the one they played for yesterday, if not, better. Henry, somehow pumped on extra adrenaline, grabbed the mic from Vic’s hands while he was mid-sentence about Y/N. He eyed Henry in annoyance, but the bassist shook him off nonchalantly as he started into the microphone, his voice echoing into the crowd, “I know you fuckers have been seeing all around the net that his chick over here,” he shouted, motioning towards Y/N, who bowed down in response, pushing her hair back into place, shaking out the sleeveless shirt she borrowed from Henry, “Had my back at a bar last night. I wanna tell y’all that everything you read is fucking true and this fucking asshole is a total badass! And she can throw one hell of a punch.”

Henry waltzed over to her, his bass guitar hanging by its strap on his side while he placed his free arm around her neck, pulling her in close and planting a rough kiss on her cheek, making the crowd go wild, “Out of all the guitarists we had in this band, this girl has earned her place and she belongs in Mind Failure! If anyone has anything to say about that, well then,  _FUCK YOU_!”

Henry intentionally made a point to eye Patrick as he spoke those words, smiling when the fans erupted in shouts and screams, cementing their approval of her as well. Vic and Belch beamed with pride at the reaction, proud of their decision to keep her around while they nodded towards Henry, their looks plastered with smugness as if saying;  _“I told you so”._

The only one who wasn’t smiling or interacting was Patrick. He crossed his arms on the far side of the stage, away from Y/N, Henry and Vic, starting the next song without warning or call, preferring to head bang on his own, playing on his platform as he shredded out his technical solos, all while glaring maliciously at Y/N.

Even though Vic had advised her not to do anything about the fucked-up shit Patrick pulled, she couldn’t help but glare back at the motherfucker. Just because she had to keep her mouth shut didn’t mean she had to be nice to him.

So, while he shot his death stares at her, she smiled wider, playing the music alongside Henry, headbanging with him, fist bumping; all the shit he used to do with Patrick, he was doing with her now. Y/N knew for a fact that it was making Patrick angry, and he in turn was sure she was doing it on purpose.

Just as he feigned innocence and bemusement at the situation that befell her items, she could turn the tables and do the same, a thought that kept her satisfied as Mind Failure played the final song of their set.

Once that final note hit the air, Vic, Henry, Y/N and Belch, who rushed to the center of the stage from behind his drum set, all crossed their arms over one another’s shoulders, bowing into the crowd. Patrick, being the stubborn piece of shit that he was, ignored them. Instead, he pulled his black Meshuggah t-shirt off, diverting the attention from the quartet that stood front and center. He wiped the sweat from his forehead on it, proceeding to indifferently toss it into the crowd. The roar of shrieks filled the air as various women fought over the sweaty fabric all while reaching for the thin lanky man with his exposed, heavily tattooed torso.

He smirked at the boys in his band, flipping off the crowd as he walked off the stage with an air of authority. Henry, obviously unsatisfied with Patrick’s lack of cooperation, snatched the mic away from Vic and shouted into it, “Aww look everyone, looks like little Pattycake is being a baby! What’s wrong Patsy boy? Are you pissed that a chick is taking up your spotlight?”

Y/N watched in interest, trying to hide the satisfied smirk that was spreading across her lips at Henry’s very public call out. She felt Vic tense beside her, his hand automatically reaching for her wrist while gently pulling on it to lead her off the stage. Belch stared at the boys with wide eyes before regaining his composure as he planted himself between Henry and Patrick, who were now glaring at each other in front of a large crowd of fans. Vaguely, she heard Belch speaking to the boys on either side of him, their fists clenching as if they were getting ready for a fight, “Get off the fucking stage, guys.”

Neither of the boys acknowledged the husky man standing between them, or the security guards that now loomed on the edge of the stage, obviously on edge at the possibility of having to deal with two of Mind Failures resident psychos. Belch, who was now starting to lose his temper, spoke darkly, “Off the fucking stage,  _now_. Or I will have Johnny Ray cancel all your fucking credit cards.”

“You clearly don’t know us well enough if you think we give a shit about credit cards-”

“With the amount of guitars you buy in a month, Pat, I think you  _do_  care,” Belch retorted. He ignored the crowd shouting at the scene, egging the boys to fight, “There’s a time and place. And it isn’t here. Get your asses off the stage, and we’ll settle this in private.”

From her angle, she could only see Henry’s face twist in fury. She watched as his cold baby blue eyes narrowed slightly, his nostrils flared as he exhaled profoundly, his skin was reddened from the heat of playing an outdoor show. Patrick’s tattooed back was tense, and just as sudden, his body relaxed. He turned on his heel, rapidly pushing past Vic and Y/N as he stomped off the stage. Belch followed, then Henry, and finally, Vic with Y/N in tow.

Almost instantly from stepping off the stage, Patrick handed one of his many guitars to a guitar tech, while Henry did the same with his bass guitar. Patrick paused near a stack of amps, turning slowly to face Henry once more. She and Vic stood on the side of the boys, near Belch who was playing the mediator, as he always did.

From here, she could see that although Patrick was obviously fuming, there was an unsettling aura to his demeanor, as if he was angry, but _calm_  at the same time. It was difficult to describe, even more challenging to pinpoint exactly what the heavily tattooed musician was feeling or even thinking. Patrick inhaled leisurely, his voice level and steady when he spoke, “If you ever call me out on stage like that again, Henry, I’ll fucking break your face in.”

“Why fucking wait? Do it now, punk ass motherfucker,” Henry pushed, still trying to get under Patrick’s skin, which was seemingly working as the tall man rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and scoffing at the idea.

“Tread lightly, Bowers; you of all people know what I’m capable of,” he said, his voice just barely above a whisper, not even trying to conceal his threatening tone. Belch shifted beside her, as did Vic, both of them eyeing each other in preparation for what could happen next.

Henry chuckled, cracking his knuckles, “What? Dropping roaches in your bandmates dresser? Fucking in their beds and wiping cum all over their stuff? Shit don’t fly with me, Hockstetter, you’re gonna have to try harder than that.”

Patrick smiled slyly. He reached into the pockets of his pants, pulling out his pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He placed a cigarette between his lips as his sweaty hands flicked the lighter, bringing the stick to life and inhaling the thick white smoke, speaking whilst tendrils of smoke escaped his lips, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Fucking bullshit!”

“Patrick,” Vic intervened, “We know it was you that did it.”

“Maybe the bitch is dirty and she brought them with her, ever think of that?”

“Oh, fuck you, Hockstetter!” Y/N bellowed, shoving Henry aside to confront the musician, “Quit being a fucking bitch and own up to your shit!”

Patrick slanted his head, taking a short puff of his cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke directly into Y/N’s face, “What makes you think you have the right to address  _me_?”

“What? Think you’re better than me,  _Patty_?”

“I know I am, you’re not even worth the air I spend talking to you right now. So,” he whispered, taking a step towards Y/N, towering over her while his lips spread in a flirty, yet demeaning manner, “Why don’t you get your ass out of my fucking sight, and let the grown men speak?”

“Funny you consider yourself one, considering you’re acting like a bitch!” Y/N spat, and before she could control herself, her hands pressed against Patrick’s sweaty, lean and surprisingly muscular torso. She shoved him back with all her strength, sending him shuffling backwards a few steps into an innocent bystander that hit the ground with a thud.

Patrick’s eyes narrowed, his brows knitted as he slowly composed himself, pushing his sweaty black hair back with his hands, ignoring the groans from the roadie that laid sprawled on the ground. Immediately, Henry and Belch stood in between them, while Vic pulled Y/N by her wrist as he placed himself in front of her. Her eyes were locked on his though, and she knew in that moment, that whatever animosity they had between them, was now an all-out war.

“You provoked her, Patrick,” Belch said in a calm, but firm tone; suggesting that if he had to fight the mastermind of the band, he would.

Patrick’s grey green eyes scanned the boys that shielded Y/N from harm. He sized them up, one by one, calculating his odds of winning this one. His stare landed on Henry, and Y/N could see the turmoil inside of him as he contemplated fighting his best friend. But, whatever compassion he had inside of him disappeared when he locked eyes with Y/N again, who stared at him with the same malicious intent that he did, refusing to be intimidated or pushed around.

The tension could be felt among the band of men and Y/N, along with a few people who pretended not to watch the scene unfold with interest, Patrick exhaled deeply, his eyes still on Y/N. He pointed a long, ringed finger at her as she spoke, “Consider yourself gone, bitch.”

“Fuck you,” she seethed, frustrated that Vic’s hold on her was firm, and that the men stood in front of her as if she couldn’t defend herself.

Patrick turned and headed the other way, ignoring Belch’s calls. Every one of them watched as people parted for him, refusing to be victims to his obvious wrath. Belch turned to Henry as soon as Patrick was out of earshot, “Why the fuck did you have to go and call him out like that Henry?”

The mullet haired man shrugged nonchalantly, a half smile spreading across his lips, “He was being a bitch on stage.”

“You humiliated him,” Belch countered, his arms held out in disbelief.

“He humiliated us first,” Henry retorted as he pulled out his cigarettes and lit one easily, “All because he couldn’t fucking swallow his fucking pride.”

“You’re one to fucking talk,” Belch shot back.

“Why the fuck are you even defending him, Belch? You know damn well he was in the wrong!”

“Because you’re not the one he’s going to target you fucking idiot!” Belch shouted, prompting the people around them to pause and stare at their group with looks of superiority. Belch turned, taking in the scene, making the husky man shout in irritation, “The fuck you looking at?!”

The roadies, and other bands, immediately went back to their own business. Vic, who finally released his hold on Y/N’s wrist, chimed in, “He’s right, Henry. It’s not you he’s going to go after,” he turned to Y/N, his deep brown eyes filled with concern, “Roaches and cum filled bed sheets are child’s play when it comes to Patrick.”

“I can handle him,” Y/N arrogantly responded, puffing her chest out and lifting her chin up.

“Y/N,” Belch started, “I don’t think you understand-”

“No, _you_  don’t understand,” she spoke, her tone holding an edge of authority and assertion, “Vic told me to ignore him and not do anything  _‘stupid’_ , so what? Am I supposed to just let him treat me like he does his fucking groupies? Fuck that! I’m a musician, I’m just as good as he is and I’ve earned my place here!”

“No one’s saying you haven’t, Y/N,” Vic interceded, his tone matching hers as he spoke, “But you need to understand that Patrick isn’t someone to be fucked with! You shouldn’t have pushed him!”

Y/N scoffed in outrage, a surprised smile spreading on her cheeks as she tried to fathom how her actions were unjustifiable. Henry, who leaned against a stack of amps, held out his cigarette to her. She quickly snatched it out of his fingers, taking a long puff, exhaling smoothly as she let the nicotine set in and calm her.

Y/N closed her eyes, tilting her head back to further allow the calm to envelope her. Her eyes opened, and she met Vic’s gaze as she removed the cigarette from her lips, holding it between her fingers, “And  _that_ , Vic, is why he does the shit that he does. Patrick throws a fit and he gets what he wants because you all give in like bunch of pussies. You let his bitch ass push you around, and you try to make me do the same thing-”

“We don’t let him push us around!” Belch roared, the fury clear in his expression at the thought.

Y/N took two steps towards him, facing him head on as she spoke, “I respect you, Belch, but if you ever interrupt me again, I will do worse than Hockstetter.”

Belch’s eyes widened at the threat, however, he remained silent as Y/N picked up her train of thought, “Asking me not to do anything, or asking me to allow him to get away with his shit is like asking me to get on my knees and suck his dick. Y’all can do what you fucking want, but don’t you dare try to strip me of my _right_  to defend myself. Don’t you dare tell me to throw away my dignity for some fucking asshole.”

Vic sighed, trying to keep his composure as he pushed his white blonde hair back away from his face, “Look, Y/N, we’re on your side. And you’re right, we let him get away with shit most of the time, but, if there’s anything I learned from spending more than half my life with Patrick, is that you have to pick your battles. Not rush into the fray just because you’re angry, otherwise you’ll find yourself fighting a war that you can’t, and  _won’t_ , win.”

The four members of Mind Failure shared a few moments of silence, as they pondered the words that were said by their vocalist. Even Henry, who was ready to fight Patrick moments ago, had a look of regret on his face as he realized the truth in both Vic and Belch’s words. Y/N however, refused to admit they were right, and she was wrong.

“We gotta do a meet and greet, and we gotta speak to some reporters,” Vic said, getting into the business aspect of things, “By the end of it all, the fumigation should be done and the bus should be cleaned so we can all relax and hit the road later tonight, or tomorrow morning. Let’s just get through this afternoon, and we’ll talk about this later. Agreed?”

Belch nodded, along with Henry, and eventually, Y/N followed suit. Vic, satisfied with the outcome, turned to Belch, “Find Hockstetter, tell him to get his ass back over here or we’ll send him home. Everyone take ten to cool off, and we’ll meet at the tent, cool?”

“Alright,” Belch answered, taking off in the direction that Patrick stalked off in to find the shaggy haired guitarist.

“Fine,” Henry agreed, pushing himself off the amps as he stretched, “I’m gonna look for a quick fuck in the meantime, so if I’m late, don’t come looking for me.”

Y/N and Vic watched in amusement as Henry trotted off, hollering towards a girl with long blonde hair that was working a merch tent.

As Y/N began to stomp off in search of a drink, Vic called behind her, “I hope you know you kicked the hornet’s nest, Y/N. Keep a lookout, he won’t be childish this time around.”

“Fuck him,” she shouted over her shoulder, puffing on the cigarette as she began her hunt for whiskey.

A part of her was assured her that she did the right thing. Fuck Patrick Hockstetter. He was being a bitch, and he was being unfair in treating her the way he did. What the hell did Vic expect her to do? Just sit there and take it?

_Fuck that._

She had done that for years, always at the mercy of her father or the many failed relationships she was in, and she wasn’t going to do it now.

Still, Vic’s words bothered her and cut her like knives the more she thought about them, even as she took three shots of whiskey, all she could think was maybe Vic had a point; she just kicked a fucking hornet’s nest, and if she thought she had seen the extent of Patrick’s cruelty, she was wrong. She was very wrong.

 

* * *

 

Y/N’s eyes lingered over to Patrick, who sat in his chair on the opposite end of her. He kept up his appearances, flirting with the ladies that went up to get their merchandise signed, laughing loudly at his advances. She felt a twinge of anger at watching the interaction. The whole sight disgusted her to the core that she had to spit to get the bad taste out of her mouth.

She couldn’t quite explain why she felt as repulsed as she did; maybe it was the way the women perked their breasts and stuck their asses out, treating themselves like the objects that he saw them as. It was something she was always conflicted with, but now, watching Patrick flirt with them and even sign his signature on a brunette’s chest, the curves of his messily scrawled name plastered over the top of her enormous tits, her irritation intensified. Y/N furrowed her brows then, wondering how the hell all these girls had huge tits, looking down at her own chest in self-consciousness, abruptly feeling annoyed that she had done so.

Y/N smiled at a young boy who was maybe in his teens, he shyly approached her, complimenting her on her skills and her beauty, “I think you’re extremely beautiful, and I think you all did good in bringing her in.”

The boys thanked him, all except for Patrick who was still occupied with Big Tits McGee. Once the teen boy left, Y/N turned to Patrick who was now stuffing his face in the girl’s cleavage, motorboating her in front of the fans, some of which were underage. Irritated, she glanced at Vic who ignored the scene that was taking place a few seats away from him. She shook her head;  _these fuckers still won’t say shit._

Without warning, Y/N turned and opened her bottled water, which was filled with Vodka to help ease her nerves. She took a quick shot, closing the cap shut as she pushed her chair back and leaned over the table, shouting directly at big tits, “Hey, we got teens here, and we got people waiting, move it along.”

Big Tits, glared at her, scowling as she did so. She placed a hand on her hip as she shouted back at Y/N, “Fuck off, bitch!”

Y/N automatically tossed her bottle of vodka at the woman, hitting her square in the face. Henry instantly jumped out of his chair. His hands reached for Y/N to stop her from jumping over the table and beating the shit out the groupie, barely managing to grasp hold of her as he led her away from the shouting woman who was being held back by security.

The crowd cheered as the woman was shooed away by security, Patrick called after her, “I’ll find you later, sweetheart, don’t worry about it.”

Henry spoke to her in a hushed whisper, “C’mon shug, you’ll get that bitch later. After I fuck her.”

“Is that all you care about?”

“I’m a piece of shit, and I love fucking. If Hockstetter isn’t being a bitch, I can probably get in on that later.”

“And what about Reba McEntire?” Y/N asked, furrowing her brows at Henry’s mindset.

“Who?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Never mind.”

Taking a deep breath, she groaned as she realized she didn’t have anything to keep her relaxed now, “I threw my bottle of vodka.”

“That’s what you get for throwing your liquor at bitches, you need to learn how to keep your alcohol in high regard,” he joked, pulling out his chair and plopping down on it as he motioned for the next person to come forward.

She followed his lead, regarding her bottle a lost cause. She would just get another one, she was feeling alright now anyhow. She smirked at the next person in line, making friendly conversation with them until Patrick’s voice called out to her, “That’s the second time today you fuck with my business.”

“Oh, is that what that was? A business transaction?”

Henry guffawed next to her, meeting Patrick’s less than amused glare, “You set yourself up for that one, Pat.”

Patrick signed another fan’s autograph, barely regarding their existence as they snapped a picture of him. He continued on with his part, disregarding Y/N’s comment.

She allowed her gaze to fall over to him, and she hated herself for staring at him longer than she had intended to. Patrick didn’t bother finding another shirt to put on, even then, it wasn’t like he could due to his stupidity, the bus was still airing out because of the fumigation that he instigated.

Still, she couldn’t help but admire the way his muscles rippled underneath his tattooed skin, she couldn’t make out what his tattoos were, all she knew was that he was a walking piece of art. His long, ringed fingers held the pen loosely as he signed autograph after autograph, and for a moment, she almost admired the way his eyes shined as he mischievously smiled at another woman in the crowd.

Upon realizing what she was doing, Y/N shook her head in disgust, and the anger that she felt towards him earlier returned with a vengeance the more she thought about what an asshole he was and he wasn’t worth her time, or effort.

Eventually, after hours of interacting with fans and taking photos, the meet and greet closed on a good note. Most, if not all, of the fans were satisfied with their items and the show. However, much to her dismay, many of them wanted photos with her and Patrick. With a tight smile, she gave in to the fan’s requests, making sure to stand as far away as possible from Patrick, while he flat out ignored her.

Once it was all over, she slipped out past the tents to be alone for a while. She allowed her feet to lead her astray. The day’s events were finally kicking in, and she felt her body begin to yell in exhaustion. Her mind was still reeling from having bugs all over her clothing, and then Patrick’s disgusting cum all over her sheets. The thought brought her fury back once more and she lit a cigarette to calm herself, she knew how it would get if he allowed the rage to overtake her.

She leaned against another band’s half stacks, inhaling the wisps of smoke that escaped the filter of the cigarette, pulling her silver aviator sunglasses down from her head to her eyes, ignoring the bustling movement of the many band members as they hurried off or on the stage.

“Y/N!”

Sighing in frustration, she turned to meet Henry, who was rushing towards her, “Hey, what the hell are you doing all the way out here?”

“Just wanted to be alone for a minute and think,” she said, “I had a rough day.”

“We all had a rough day, shug,” he scoffed, holding out his bottle of whiskey for her. Without much resistance, she threw her head back as she chugged a few gulps of the liquor down her throat. Henry whistled in approval, taking the bottle back, “I need to be careful with you, you’d probably end up finishing my secret stash.”

“If it helps me deal with that walking pole then fuck it,” she burped, taking another long drag from the cigarette.

“You missed the interview with the reporter,” he mentioned casually.

“Fuck!” she shouted, “I’m sorry, I—I—”

“Don’t worry about it, shug,” Henry shrugged indifferently, as if the her missing a press interview didn’t bother him.

“Aren’t you pissed?”

“No,” Henry scoffed, “Son of a bitch only asked about the fight at the bar last night, and then Patrick terrorized the shit out of him so the interview was cut short.”

Y/N chuckled, aware of Hockstetter’s anti reporter antics, thanks to the power of google. Henry, meeting her gaze, motioned for her to follow him. Groaning, she did so, allowing him to lead her back towards the bus, “By the way, I’m glad you told those fuckers what was up earlier.”

“Oh?”

“If I had said what you did they would have put up a fight,” he said, pausing when they reached the bus. He leaned against the door, taking a large gulp from the bottle, “Funny thing is, they’re not that pissed at you.”

“Why is that funny? I was right.”

“Yeah, but so was I. And they still bitched _me_  out for it.”

Y/N sloped her head in confusion, “What the hell are you getting at Bowers?”

“They let you get away with shit too,” he smirked, pulling the cigarette from her fingers, claiming it as his own.

“You’ve got to stop doing that shit, Henry,” she growled, mildly irritated that he continued to steal her cigarettes from her as he puffed on it deeply.

“Yeah ok, shug, point is, you can’t get mad at those fuckers for being bitches when it comes to Pat and be satisfied when they don’t challenge  _you_.”

“And why is that?” she asked, feeling her irritation grow further. Henry should have known why she went off on Vic and Belch. They let Patrick rule their lives, they let Patrick terrorize her. She literally just explained it to them earlier.

“Because they’re trying to keep you safe from that crazy son of a bitch,” he answered, finishing her cigarette and tossing it on the ground, “And you kinda act like him.”

Outraged, Y/N scoffed in response, “I am nothing like that motherfucker.”

“Then why do you get angry when someone challenges you?”

Y/N rolled her eyes at the accusation. But, she knew that he was right. Henry stood in front of her, smugly taking another gulp from his whiskey, “Either way, shug, stop sulking and come party. We got some fine ass groupies coming by, and you need to get laid.”

“I don’t.”

“You do,” he retorted, pulling the door to the tour bus open. He waltzed inside, eyeing the spotless floor and well-organized lounge, “Looks like that maid really went all out, too bad we’re all just gonna fuck it all up.”

Within moments, Vic and Belch joined them, along with a whole gang of groupies. Like the night before, there was a mixture of both men and women, all of which were happy to sleep with any member they could of Mind Failure.

And just like the night before, Y/N happily smoked her joints and cigarettes as she sat on the couch with a man and woman on either side of her. Both spoke to her in flirtatious voices, and both were ignored as she chose to watch the interactions unfold in front of her. Shot after shot of whiskey was poured back by all the members of the band, and eventually, Patrick joined them along with Big Tits McGee, much to her chagrin.

The woman stared at her with venom in her eyes as soon as she entered the tour bus. Y/N coolly took a shot of whiskey and flipped her off, taunting her to do something about it. Tits instead rolled her eyes, opting to ignore the irritated guitarist on the couch and divert her attention to the walking mop of hair, who was now the center of attention amongst the groupies.

Y/N rolled her eyes at the sight, deciding to scroll through her phone instead of following suit, even though she found her gaze on him a few times. She forced herself to concentrate on her phone, snickering lightly upon seeing photos of herself and Henry on stage, headbanging side by side and another of them in handcuffs from the night before.

A loud banging on the door pulled her out of her scrolling; she held her phone limply in her hand while Belch rolled his eyes, gently pushing a girl with pink hair out of his way. He pushed the door open, and he was pushed back in shock, “Where the hell is Henry?!”

Y/N took a shot of whiskey, inspecting the woman that stepped into the bus like she owned it. She took a glance at her, furrowing her brows when she noticed that it was Reba fucking McEntire who stepped into the tour bus, fuming and out of her mind with rage, “Henry?! Where are you?! It’s Lauren, you son of a bitch!”

Y/N groaned upon hearing Reba’s, or Lauren’s, high pitched voice ringing in her ears, rolling her eyes at the fact that this woman dared to step into the tour bus as if she had a right to be in there.

Chuckling, and rubbing his nose of a white powdery substance, Vic answered her, “He’s in the bunks, I gotta warn you though darling, he said not to bother him.”

Y/N rolled her eyes as Lauren pushed her way through the crowd of groupies, still, Y/Ns eyes lingered on the pissed off redhead, making sure that she didn’t overstep her boundaries. Which, she kind of already did, she was already on thin ice with the boys the moment she shoved her way into the bus as if she belonged there.

Innocently, she got up from her seat, ignoring the man and woman beside her. She gently pushed through the groupies, making her way to the counter where all the liquor bottles were lined up in a surprisingly neat row. Mind Failure  _did_  hold their liquor in high regard. Patrick, who was standing with Big Tits McGee near the counter, glared at her as she shoved herself beside him, pushing another groupie out of the way to get a better view of the hall.

“You’re in my space,” Patrick hissed, leaning against the counter to get a full view of Y/N.

Y/N ignored him, pouring tequila into her glass, observing Lauren bang on the door to the bunks, “Open this fucking door  _now,_  Henry Bowers! You told me you loved me last night!”

She snickered in amusement at the words. Even she knew that men tended to say stupid things they didn’t mean when they were balls deep in pussy.

“Hey bitch,” she heard from behind her. Y/N rolled her eyes in annoyance, rotating to glare into the hazel eyes of Big Tits, “You threw a fucking water bottle at me earlier.”

“I should have thrown my fucking chair at you,” Y/N retorted, turning her attention back to the redhead from the night before as Henry opened the door, “Made me waste some perfectly good vodka, which I’m still pissed over, so watch what you say cunt.”

Y/N suppressed a grin when Henry stuck his head out of the door, stupidly smiling seductively at Lauren, whispering lowly to her so no one could hear a word they were saying.

“You’re a fucking bitch, and I hope you like the surprise Patrick and I left for you-”

“Shut your mouth,” Y/N snapped, taking another shot of tequila, tensing as Lauren began to push on the door, shouting obscenities. Finally, she managed to push through, throwing a fit of rage when she saw two naked women in the room with Henry, their tits bouncing up and down as they tried to scramble out of the room. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on, and as Lauren took in the scene in front of her, she began to slap Henry relentlessly, shouting nonsense at the top of her lungs in her fury.

“Look bitch-”

Y/N was now beyond aggravation with Big Tit’s voice. She whirled and clocked her once across the nose, knocking her backwards into Belch’s arms as Patrick laughed loudly, not a tad concerned over his groupie’s well-being.

Y/N reeled around, sprinting towards the bunks where a fight was now breaking out. She reached around Lauren’s waist, yanking her off of Henry, who was getting punched and slapped by the crazed redhead. She pressed her hands against the woman’s stomach, trying to get a good grip on her as she tossed her to the ground, a shriek escaping Lauren’s lips.

“I’m gonna kick your fucking ass!” Lauren shouted in her high-pitched voice, making Y/N wince.

“Try it,” she huffed.

Lauren pulled herself up from the floor, and immediately hurled herself towards Y/N, who caught her waist and began pulling her out of the room. Lauren held on to the edge of the door for dear life, refusing to leave the room until Henry offered her an explanation why he cheated on her.

“Because I’m not with you! I never even said I wanted to be with you!” Henry shouted, not even bothering to cover up his still erect cock as he struggled to pull a pair of old, worn out jeans.

Frustrated with the woman, Y/N pulled her tightly, making her hold on the door loosen. One more yank, and Lauren finally released her hold on the door, shouting at the top of her lungs as Y/N lugged her out of the bus, vaguely aware that Big Tits was nursing a nosebleed at the floor of the bus with Patrick snickering beside her.

“Belch, open the fucking door!” Y/N ordered as the woman thrashed in her arms frantically.

In an instant, Belch pushed the door open, shuffling out of the way as Y/N tossed Lauren out of the tour bus. She stepped out as the redhead got to her feet, still adamant that she was going to get to Henry, Lauren tried to push her way into the bus past Y/N, “Let me in! Reggie said I could come in this morning! He promised!”

“Don’t fucking let her in, Belch! Y/N, don’t you fucking let her in!” Henry shouted from within the bus, probably still getting dressed.

“You heard him,” Y/N said, suddenly feeling a little sympathetic towards the woman.

“Fuck you, you’re over there taking their orders like a bitch! I bet you fucked them all! I bet that’s how you got in the fucking band!”

 _Fuck my sympathy_ , she thought as she stalked towards the redhead, seething with rage at the implication that she would do such a thing. Her open hand slapped hard across Lauren’s face, the sound echoing across the quiet parking lot. Lauren held her cheek in shock, her doe eyes staring at Y/N in disbelief, her red lips hung open as she tried to find a word to say.

“That was a fucking warning,” Y/N whispered, low and menacingly, clenching her fist, readying herself for a fight, “Leave, or next time you won’t get a bitch slap.”

Defeated, trembling and out of her mind with terror, Lauren turned, stomping away swiftly as she was led away by security at Y/N’s behest. She sighed in annoyance, lighting a cigarette, inhaling deeply, whispering to no one in particular, “Crazy bitches.”

“Yo, shug,” Henry called from the tour bus. Y/N’s gaze turned to him surrounded by groupies, all of them holding their phones out and recording the incident that just took place. He had a look of satisfaction on him as the women all rubbed his shirtless body, admiring the tattoo that covered most of his chest, his pants hanging low off his waist, showing the top of his pubes and happy trail, “Thanks for handling that, how about you get your sweet ass in here and take a shot with me? Who knows, you might get lucky.”

“I can do without your gonorrhea dipped dick,” she called, feeling her hands begin to tremble from the adrenaline. The groupies behind him laughed loudly, Henry reassured them that his cock was clean, even going as far as pulling his pants down to show them. Y/N shook her head, smirking slightly at his antics. Still, she felt the shivers in her body begin to intensify as she clenched and unclenched her hands, taking another puff from her cigarette, she continued, “I need to cool off.”

“Liquor is the best cure for that,” Henry pushed, refusing to take no for an answer. She glared at him momentarily, allowing her stare to do her speaking for her. She wasn’t in the mood. She just tossed a woman out of the bus, she punched another in the face… The whole day was just a cluster of fights and she needed a breath of fresh air.

Henry shrugged, throwing his hands up in defeat, “Alright, alright; but you’d better take a fucking shot with me later, you hear? You deserve it for handling that for me.”

Y/N nodded, waving him away as she brought the cigarette to her lips. Henry shut the door to the bus behind him, shouting something barely audible and getting a few cheers in response.

She deeply inhaled the smoke of her cigarette, pacing back and forth in front of the bus, opting to put her headphones in and listen to some music to calm her. These past few days have been trying, but, if there was anything that Y/N was good at, it was enduring.

She had been put in the worst situations life could offer, some of them being the shittiest times of her life, wondering if she would even make it out alive… and yet, here she was, playing music with one of the world’s most famous bands of all time.  _Complaining_.

Of course, half of the band members didn’t exactly roll out the welcome mat when she became part of the band. While she didn’t give a shit if they liked her or not, it did bother her that Henry compared her to Patrick.

She was nothing like him.

He was crazy, based on what she heard.

 _I’m not like him_ , she assured herself, walking towards the trailer where all their music equipment was held, her fingers itching for the fretboard and strings of her old, trusty Ibanez. Music was the only thing that could help her vent out some of her frustration, and they weren’t going to leave until late afternoon tomorrow, so why the fuck not?

Regardless, her thoughts were still on Patrick, and she drove herself crazy trying to find comparisons. She couldn’t see it, she couldn’t see what the hell Henry meant. She could handle someone challenging her, she was cool with it.

 _No, you’re not_ , she told herself.

“Fucking shit,” she groaned, taking another drag from her cigarette as she neared the trailer, frustrated that her mind was taking her in circles.

Her steps slowed when her eyes fell on a glinting item tossed on the ground. She took on last drag of her cigarette, tossing it aside as she squatted down to inspect the item on the ground. It was silver, and long, just like a pickup on a guitar. She turned the item in her hands, wondering what the hell it was doing out in the grass.

Her eyes trailed over to the concrete where the trailer was parked. She felt her heart beat race, her body began to tremble in both fury and panic, her eyes widened at the sight of her Ibanez on the ground… or what was left of it.

She scurried towards the pieces, frantically gathering what she could with shivering fingers as she whispered, “It can be fixed, it can be fixed.”

Tears pricked her eyes when the realization hit her; her guitar was broken beyond repair. The neck was shattered into three different pieces, the tuning pegs were crushed, the body of the guitar lay littered over the concrete, the stickers she placed on them years ago barely holding some of the hardwood together.

“Who the fuck-”

But she knew. She didn’t have to try hard to come to a conclusion on who had done it. Y/N was told he liked to hurt people, and if that was his goal, then it was accomplished, he damaged the only thing in her life that endured the same things she had.

That guitar wasn’t just an instrument to her, it was a companion. It was an extension of her body, her mind and soul. When she lost everything, living on people’s couches or out in the street, she always had her guitar. Many days she starved, refusing to sell the only thing that mattered to her. In some way, the guitar was her. And now it lay on the ground, broken and shattered to pieces.

Angrily, she held the tears back, refusing to let the fucker have that satisfaction. Instead, she stood up, waltzing towards the trailer in malicious resolve, mildly surprised that Patrick didn’t bother to lock it, then again, he was an arrogant prick who thought no one would dare challenge him.

 _Well jokes on him_ , she thought, searching the confines of the well-organized room on wheels, finding what she was looking for.

She pulled out the beautiful black Ibanez guitar with white symbols on it, the same guitar he used when he battled her the first time around, feeling a tinge of regret for what she was about to do to the beautiful, glossy instrument in her hands. But if the fucker didn’t have respect for her things, why should she respect his? And even then, the son of a bitch could afford as many guitars as he wanted, a prospect that he was proud of earlier. To him, this would mean nothing, but it would mean everything to her.

She paced in front of the trailer, clutching on to what she assumed was Patrick’s favorite guitar, as she pulled out her phone, dialing Henry’s number, shivering as she waited for him to answer his phone. The clamoring of voices in the background filled the line when he answered, “Did you get locked out?”

“Bring the boys to the trailer, now.”

“What’s with the orders-”

“NOW!” she shouted, allowing her distress to flow out to show Henry that this was not a fucking game.

He remained silent for a moment, finally agreeing to her order, “Alright, we’ll be out in a sec.”

Y/N ‘s eyes were on the bus ahead of her, watching as Belch was the first to exit, followed by Vic. She could hear Patrick’s loud laugh from the bus. She gripped the guitar in her hands harder, fumbling with her free hand for a cigarette, frantically lighting it and desperately seeking comfort in the thick smoke.

Finally, Patrick exited the bus, and then Henry, who reassured the groupies in the bus that they would return. Together, they all walked towards the trailer, eyeing Y/N in confusion. Within a few moments, they reached her, the irritation at having their party interrupted clear in their voices.

“What’s got your nips hardened, shug?” Henry asked, genuinely curious. Upon closer inspection of her distressed expression, his brows furrowed in concern, “Hey, you alright?”

Y/N’s eyes fell on Patrick, who sneered slyly at her. She pursed her lips, trying her best to keep her composure, “Take a look over there.”

Vic and Belch were the first to notice the mess on the concrete ground, their eyes widening at the same time upon glancing at the pieces of what should have been her guitar. Henry pushed past the boys, furrowing his brows again, “Why’d you break your guitar?”

“Henry,” Vic spoke, “I don’t think she did it.”

“Then who the fuck-”

Henry paused, turning and glancing at Patrick, taking in his smug expression. Patrick brought his glass of vodka to his lips, smirking as he swallowed the clear liquor.

“Did you fucking do this Patrick?!” Belch shouted, outraged at the action. She heard shuffling behind her, but she didn’t care to notice who it was that was moving about, as her eyes were focused on Patrick.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he drawled innocently, as if he had nothing to do with her guitar being smashed to bits.

“Cut the bullshit, Patrick,” Y/N growled, taking another long drag of her cigarette and tossing it aside as her grip on his guitar tightened, “Who else could it have been?”

Patrick’s smile widened, his enjoyment at the situation clear on his face. But, just as easily as it crossed his face, it was wiped away when his eyes fell to her hands. His expression darkened, taking in what she was holding, “What the fuck are you doing with my guitar?”

“Oh, _this_  guitar?” she asked, holding it up in front of him, “This is my guitar now. Consider it payment for destroying my property.”

“I ain’t giving you shit, bitch,” he spat, his fists clenching at his sides.

“You’re going to give it to me, or I will break it just as you broke mine,” she seethed.

Y/N’s breathing became increasingly heavy as she waited for Patrick to decide what was going to happen to his guitar. Henry, whose eyes were scanning the pieces of Y/N’s broken guitar on the ground, called over his shoulder, “Give her the guitar, Pat. It’s only fair.”

Patrick’s brows raised, and his lips spread wider in false cheerfulness, “ _Fuck no_. Why don’t you just fucking buy a new one instead of trying to leech off my shit?”

“YOU BROKE MY FUCKING GUITAR!”

“YOU HAVE NO FUCKING PROOF!”

“GIVE HER THE GUITAR, PATRICK!” Henry shouted, along with Vic and Belch.

“We all know you fucking did it, Pat,” Belch said, “Only  _you_  would go that fucking far!”

The boys began to shout over one another, with Henry, Vic and Belch pushing at Patrick to give up his guitar, who stood firm with his arms crossed, smirking at the obvious tension he was causing within the band.

His amused gaze fell on her. His grey green eyes gleamed with malice, and it was then that she realized, that no matter what she was going to lose this battle. She had lost. He knew she didn’t have money for a new guitar, and Patrick was not going to let her have one of his as payment, or even replace the one he destroyed.

 _Fuck it_ , she thought to herself, ignoring the various voices surrounding her, might as well hit him where it hurts.

Without warning, without any indication, she brought the guitar up over her head with both of her hands, shouting at the top of her lungs as she swung it against the concrete ground with all her force, feeling the satisfaction of watching his guitar smash to pieces in front of his eyes.

She continued smashing it over and over again, until just like hers, it was a pile of pieces on the ground, tossing aside what was left of the fretboard.

The silence that followed was deafening, even Henry didn’t have words for what he witnessed. Patrick’s eyes, which were amused moments before, were now two dark voids. His glare met hers, and his lips pursed, “You just fucked up.”

“Fucking  _do_  something, Hockstetter,” she taunted, stalking towards him, standing closer than she had in the whole time they’ve been in the band together that she could smell his scent in her nose, a mixture of cigarettes and musk. “Be a fucking man! Don’t fucking go behind my back trying to play your childish games, fucking do something!”

For the second time that day, Y/N’s hands pressed against his sweaty torso, shoving him backwards, hoping that he would fight her.

Patrick’s eyes darkened at the touch, in a flash, he closed the distance between them easily. He immediately reached out with this long arms, grasping a handful of Y/N’s hair in his large hands, yanking her head backwards so she was facing him, the tip of his nose touching hers. His breath was heavy and hot on her face as he whispered menacingly, “I’m going to fucking tear you apart.”

The boys began to rush to her defense, she quickly shouted at them in response, “Stay the fuck out of this!”

“Y/N-” Henry started.

“Stay the fuck out, Henry!”

Patrick’s breathing was heavy, and fast. He glared at her for a moment, his eyes crazed and full of psychotic rage, making her tremble slightly. Y/N quickly clenched her fist, throwing a hard right hook on his left cheekbone, slightly dazing him enough to loosen his hold on her hair. Acting quickly, she threw a left punch at him, landing her fist hard on his right eye.

Patrick, however, wasn’t like the other guys she fought at the bar. He was quick, and he instantly recovered, throwing a hard punch at Y/N’s face, making her stumble backwards. She took the hit, rushing back towards Patrick, taking the barrage of fists that landed on her face and body, putting her in somewhat of a daze.

Patrick reached his hand out around her throat, pushing her back against the trailer with a hard thud. He brought his other hand up to her throat, pressing against her throat with immense strength that he lifted her from the ground.

Y/N struggled to breathe, but she kept her composure, bringing up her legs and using all the force that she had to kick him hard between his legs. His mouth opened as he emitted a grunt of pain. His hold on her released, his hands soothing his injured cock.

Hastily, she scrambled to her feet, throwing a fusillade of angry fists at his face, his body, anywhere. She wasn’t fighting with concentration, she was fighting with pure rage.

As Patrick tried to gather himself, she stomped towards the broken neck of his guitar. She vaguely heard Vic and Belch’s shouts for her to stop, but their voices sounded far away. Her only focus being on the man on the ground that was dripping blood on the concrete, struggling to stay on his feet. All she could hear was the voice in her head telling her to fuck him up, to teach him a lesson he would never forget.

She held the neck up, bringing it down on his back hard. The smack of wood against his flesh echoed in the silence and darkness of the night. Patrick let out a grunt, reaching out for her legs and pulling her towards him, making her fall flat on the ground.

He swiftly climbed on top of her, smashing her head against the concrete, simultaneously landing blow after blow on her face. Her hand reached out for something, anything to give her an edge and knock the shaggy haired fucker off her.

Vaguely aware that a boot kicked another broken fretboard towards her, she grasped it with her fingers, bringing it up and smacking Patrick on the side of his head as hard as she could, over and over until he fell off her. Y/N breathed heavily through the blood that was pooled around her lips and nose.

Patrick woozily got to his feet beside her, losing his balance as he swayed side to side. She turned over, pushing herself on her knees, slowly bringing herself to her feet, still gripping the neck tightly in her hand.

She wanted to kill him. Everything in her body screamed for her to do it. He had to die.

Her breathing intensified at the prospect, her eyes widened in anticipation of his death. Just as she was readying herself to hit him once more with the broken fretboard, she felt strong arms lock themselves around her waist, and a voice whisper in her ear, “That’s enough!”

“No! Fuck that! I’m going to fucking kill him!”

Upon hearing the words, Patrick perked up, turning over and smirking maliciously through the blood on his face. He stalked towards her, ready to take advantage of the fact that Henry was holding her back.

Belch, however, was ready to intercept him and his strong arms held Patrick back as he shouted at the lanky musician, “Enough!”

“She wants to kill me, Belch, let her fucking try,” Patrick growled with a crazed smile, not even trying to fight his way out of Belch’s hold.

Henry released Y/N into the care of Vic, who held her with as much force as the mullet haired musician did.

“ENOUGH!” Henry shouted, standing in between both Y/N and Patrick as he addressed them both, “YOU HAD YOUR FUCKING FUN! NO MORE!”

“He broke my fucking guitar and he still won’t admit it! Are you too much of a bitch that you can’t even man up when you fuck with someone?!”

Patrick still refused to speak, instead opting to continue his smiling, as if her distress brought him more enjoyment than sex, drugs or music.

“Vic, get her out of here!” Henry shouted towards the blonde man holding her.

“No! No, I don’t want to-”

Swiftly, Henry stomped towards her, his baby blue eyes were intense with fury as he held her gaze. His voice was low and deep when he spoke, “Look, I know you’re pissed, I know you’re fucking angry, but let me deal with this, I promise you, I won’t let him get away with this shit.”

As furious as she was, she exhaled deeply, allowing herself to trust in Henry. Vic and Belch couldn’t control him, maybe Henry would. Finally, she nodded in response, allowing Henry to take over.

Vic gently nudged her in the direction of the bus. Reluctantly, she stomped towards it, ignoring Patrick’s leers as she passed him, “Don’t think I’m going to forget this, whore.”

“Shut your fucking mouth, Hockstetter!” Henry started before Y/N could respond, “You’re fucking shit up for everyone, and don’t think I don’t know that you fucking…”

Y/N stopped listening to the words that Henry spoke, suddenly feeling the adrenaline start to wear off and the sorrow of losing her guitar start to seep in. Lazily, she dragged herself into the bus, ignoring the gasps of the groupies at the sight of her bloody and swelling face.

“Let’s go get you cleaned up,” Vic tenderly whispered to her.

“No,” she objected, motioning for the bottle of whiskey on the counter. Vic reached out for it, handing it to Y/N, watching her with a sympathetic frown as she gulped down the contents of the bottle, “Relax Vic, I’ve taken beatings worse than this.”

Vic’s thick, beautifully done brows knitted at the piece of information she blurted. Before he could ask her to elaborate, she stumbled into the lounge, “Anyone got a joint?”

Vic reached out to her, handing her a perfectly rolled up joint, “Keep it, you need it more than I do.”

“Thanks,” she said, bringing the joint to her lips, allowing Vic to light it.

She inhaled the thick smoke, allowing it to take her into its comfort and wrap her in it, “I’m going to my bunk, I don’t want to be bothered.”

“You won’t be,” Vic assured.

Y/N nodded curtly, slowly stumbling her way down the small hallway, tasting her own blood in her mouth mixed in with the whiskey and the smoke from the joint. She pushed the door open, smirking when the two naked groupies that Henry was fucking earlier jumped up in response, their eyes widening at Y/N’s bloody face.

“Get out.”

“But, Henry said-”

“Fuck what Henry said, he can fuck you out there,” she interrupted, motioning towards the lounge area, “Get the fuck out.”

Without objection, the groupies gathered their skimpy clothing, rushing out into the hall, jumping up when Y/N slammed the door behind them. She lazily dragged herself to her bunk, grunting in irritation when she didn’t even have the strength to lift herself up. Y/N groaned as she puffed on the joint still nestled between her fingers, the back of her head throbbing uncomfortably for her to even think of laying down.

She sighed in irritation, finally feeling the mixture of liquors and the many joints she smoked kick in, the room began to spin in the familiar way it normally did when she was cross faded, and she loved it.

Whatever anger she held moments ago, it was done. It was gone. She was calm, cool, collected; all the things she never felt when she was sober. She unconsciously plopped down on the bunk nearest to her, which happened to be Henry’s messy, cum filled bunk. But, that didn’t bother her either. Right now, all she wanted to do was rest, all she wanted was to forget the hard day she had and give in to the darkness beckoning to her, welcoming her with open arms as her eyes fluttered shut, and her joint fell from her lips onto the carpeted ground.

* * *

 

Y/N awoke to the sound of a loud crashing in the lounge, and Vic’s shouting, “Fucking shit, Hockstetter, we just had this fucking bus cleaned yesterday!”

“I don’t see why you even had it cleaned,” Patrick retorted.

“Oh, maybe because someone decided it would be funny to bring roaches into the fucking bus!”

“Tell that to the-”

“Don’t start, Patrick, pick up your shit, now!” Vic shouted, making her groan and start to seethe at being woken up.

Lazily, she reached into the pockets of her shorts, grasping her phone from her pocket to check the time, sighing at the white numbers that read 8:23 AM. They would be heading out to the next city for their tour soon, and that would be another day she had to endure with Patrick fucking Hockstetter.

Suddenly, an overwhelming sadness filled her as she realized that her guitar was probably still scattered in pieces outside. Probably tossed into the bottom of a dumpster, no doubt. The flurry of emotions that she somehow managed to sleep through came boiling up at once, recalling every single thing that happened last night… especially the fist fight with Patrick.

It was then that she also felt the soreness in her jaw, her face felt slightly swollen and the back of her head felt sticky against the rough sheets that she laid on. Her neck felt tight, as if she couldn’t breathe, and she felt suffocated in the tiny space she was in.

Y/N shuffled around in the bunk for a moment, groaning when she heard the light snoring behind her, “Oh my fucking—Henry, get off of me!”

“Ughhh,” he mumbled, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling him towards her.

Frustrated, Y/N pushed her legs against the wall, squeezing herself into Henry until she heard a hard thud and shuffling on the floor as Henry scrambled awake, his eyes beady as he tried to comprehend how he got on the floor, “Oh shit, did we fuck?”

“In your fucking dreams, Bowers,” she scoffed, pushing herself up, taking a moment to gather herself on Henry’s bunk.

“Then how’d we end up on the same bed, shug?” he asked, a stupid, boyish, smug smile spread across his half-asleep face.

“I don’t know, but as you can see, I’m not naked, and neither are you,” Y/N pointed, wincing as the pain in the back of her head continued to throb.

“Fair point. I’m too much man for you anyhow, you wouldn’t be able to handle all this,” Henry bragged as he seductively rubbed his hands over his shirtless torso, furrowing his brows at the large tattoo of a lion and two skulls on either side of it on his chest.

Y/N stood slowly, still eyeing the tattoo on Henry’s chest, “Like what you see, shug?”

“Shut it, Bowers,” she retorted, her hand reaching out to touch the back of her head, growling when she felt the growth of a bruise underneath her layers of hair caked with blood. She rolled her eyes, crossing over Henry towards the drawer, ignoring the sound of the door slamming open, and the sound of heavy boots making their way into the bunk.

“You look like shit, Patty,” Henry teased from the floor, grunting as he sat up to get a better look at the guitarist, “Tsk, got your ass kicked by a girl.”

“She hits like one,” Patrick spat, stepping over Henry. Y/N’s heart rate increased at the sound of his smug voice, hitting a nerve with her as she thought about the same smug look he had when she confronted him about her guitar.

“Funny thing is, so do you, Hockstetter,” she retorted, turning to finally face him.

Henry inhaled a breath through his teeth, signifying that the insult she hurled was burn material.

Patrick smirked slyly, turning to face Y/N as he leaned against the bunks, his long, skinny jeaned legs spreading out in front of him while his back pressed against the shiny wooden beam, his boots casually kicking Henry’s leg. The skin around his eyes was darkening as it was getting ready to turn into two black eyes. His white sleeveless shirt was spotted with dried spots of blood from last night, the side of his head was swollen slightly from the hits he took.

Through his slightly puffed lips, he spoke, taunting her, “Why are you still here? I figured you’d be done by now.”

“She’s not going anywhere, Hockstetter,” Henry groaned as he pressed his hands against his head, “We talked about this last night, you fucker. Get used to it.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, her glare on him was cold as she gripped the clothes in her hands tightly, imagining that it was Patrick’s neck instead. Patrick chuckled at her expression, lighting a cigarette in his hands as he continued to insult her, “Did you get a new guitar? I wonder how you’re going to play in the band if you don’t have the equipment for it. Just saying.”

“I could easily break all your shit too, Hockstetter, only I’ll do it in front of your face again and hit you with your own fucking fretboard,” Y/N growled, her skin beginning to sweat at trying to contain her rage, “How’s your back, by the way?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, pressing his back against the wooden beam to show that he could handle whatever pain his body was in as he replied, “I have the cash to buy more, do you?”

It was almost as if the prospect of losing his collection of guitars didn’t bother him a lick, making Y/N grunt in annoyance that someone who had it all was such an ungrateful asshole.

Henry, annoyed at the sound of Patrick’s gloating, began to tell him off in an exasperated tone, “Shut your fucking mouth, Pat—”

“We don’t need you,” Patrick continued, ignoring Henry, his grey green eyes burning into her as if he had her fun with her already and was bored with playing games with her; ready to tear her apart.

Y/N sighed internally, her eyes rolling slightly. She knew he was right, she couldn’t afford to buy another guitar, the cost alone was too expensive and right now she only had forty dollars to her name. A pawn shop guitar would do, but even those were fucking expensive. Patrick wasn’t going to reimburse her or pay her back, even though it was well within his budget.

She lost. She didn’t want to admit it, but it was the truth.

“You’re right, Patrick,” she said, his name tasting like venom in her mouth. He tilted his head in confusion, as well as Henry, as they both watched her slowly walk towards the lanky musician, “I can’t afford another instrument, but, over the past few days your followers have increased, as well as your ticket sales and YouTube views. Your revenue alone from having me around has increased significantly—isn’t that right, Henry?”

Henry nodded smugly towards Patrick, who rolled his eyes at the mullet haired man. His hard stare fell back on Y/N, “And your point is?”

“You got that because of _me_.  _You need me_ , as much as it pains your soul to admit it. So,” she said, perking up as she did so, “I hope that whomever you choose next brings you as much attention as I have.”

Y/N turned on her heel, stomping out of the bunk room when Henry’s voice stopped her, “Wait— _what_?”

She sighed heavily, turning to face Patrick’s confused expression, even though it was Henry that asked her the question, “You win, Patrick. Consider this my resignation.”

Y/N didn’t stay to hear what Henry had to say, or Patrick. Maybe one day, if Patrick ever swallowed his fucking pride, and if she ever collected enough money to afford a new instrument, she could come back.

Maybe. But, she wasn’t going to hold her breath for that. She wasn’t gong to be allowed back in, unless Mind Failure’s dictator loosened his grip on the band, and she doubted Patrick Hockstetter, famous asshole for getting people kicked out of _his_  band, would make an exception for her.

Talent didn’t matter in the most talented band in the world, and the thought saddened her more than it should have.


	6. If You Can't Hang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Drug use, language, mentions of sexual activity, some alcohol use.

The water that spewed from the shower head was surprisingly warm, considering she was washing herself in the bus; her thoughts trailed to how the plumbing even managed to work. Then again, Mind Failure could afford the luxury of plumbing on their bus, among other things… such as an extensive collection of guitars in a gluttonous manner.

She shuddered as a wave of rage passed through her at the thought of Hockstetter’s complete disregard for her property. He could afford to be careless and inconsiderate of his own items, didn’t mean she could do the same. She sighed as she squeezed the frothy shampoo out of her Y/H/C hair, considering that she wasn’t any better than Patrick was. She stooped to his level to try to get a rise out of him, and suddenly, Henry’s words rang in her ears like echoes,  _you’re just like him._

Y/N grunted to herself in annoyance, taking solace in the fact that Patrick deserved it. He flaunted the fact that he could afford more instruments, maybe he needed a rude awakening to humble his grandiose sense of self. However, she still felt terrible inside for what she did.

From a young age, Y/N was taught to have respect for music. She held value over the instruments that brought beautiful masterpieces to life, and the fact that she completely destroyed something that she was taught to cherish made her feel rotten inside.

She groaned once more, leaning her forehead against the shower wall, allowing the water to fall over her naked body, soothing her sore neck muscles from the headbanging as well as her ribs that were bruised from the fight. Wincing slightly, she applied soap onto her face, washing away the dried-up blood that was now flaked on her skin and her scalp. The throbbing in her head was now pulsating violently as the shampoo cleansed the obvious open wound.

“Fucking asshole,” she mumbled to herself, recalling how hard Patrick smashed her head against the concrete ground. She took comfort in the fact that she fucked him up as well, even though the fucker was trying not to show that she did.

After an eternity of washing the blood off her body, she finally shut the water off and climbed out of the shower, gingerly reaching for an old, white, dirty towel that was used too many times and not one person bothered to wash it.

She wiped down the fog that gathered in the mirror, steam fogging up the whole tiny restroom. Her eyes glanced at her reflection, noticing the toll that the countless hours of lost sleep, alcohol and fighting have taken on her. Her lip was bloated and cut, her cheek was swollen with a tint of magenta from the hit she took; she didn’t even want to look at her ribs or back, but the throbbing pain was too much to not glance at them. She bit her bottom lip as she allowed her eyes to take a glimpse of the slightly swollen lump on her rib cage, “Fuck.”

A gentle knock on the door pulled her out of her physical misery as she called out, “Almost done.”

Quickly, she pulled on her mismatched bra and panties, gasping quietly as she pulled on an oversized Misfits T-Shirt, trying her best not to cry out in pain. Slowly, she pulled on a pair of old, rugged, cut off jean shorts. Y/N sighed softly as she towel dried her hair with the filthy towel; she allowed herself one last glance in the mirror as she pulled on a purple and black plaid flannel overshirt, thinking that she could cover up the bruising that was going to show up with concealer.

So much for never having to deal with that again, she thought to herself, recalling the number of times she had to cover up bruises with tons of makeup.

Gingerly, she picked her dirty clothes off the floor, wrapping them amongst each other into a tiny ball.

Once she opened the door, she was immediately met with a sad expression plastered on Victor Criss’ angelic face, “Is it true?”

Feigning complete ignorance to what he was asking, Y/N tilted her head in confusion, “Is what true?”

Vic sighed, annoyed as he rolled his eyes while he pushed himself away from the wall, following Y/N to the bunks, “Are you really quitting the band?”

“I am.”

“Why?”

Y/N chuckled in disbelief, aggressively tossing her dirty clothes into a black trash bag. She turned towards the blonde, furrowing her brows, “Are you seriously asking me that? Look at my fucking face, Vic!”

“It’s not like you didn’t hit him too-”

“So that makes what he did ok?”

“I’m not saying-”

“But you  _are_  saying that Vic!”

Vic exhaled deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried not to lose his temper at her, “He fucked with your shit, I would have fucked him up too. But you broke his guitar too.”

“He fucking deserved it,” she spat, pushing past him towards her bunk, grunting in pain as she lifted herself onto the mattress.

“I’m not saying he didn’t, but you can’t blame the fact that he hit you when you hit him too- now don’t start to get defensive on me, let me fucking finish- you’ve fought with dudes, taken hits from them like a champ, so I don’t see why you’re trying to pin the fact that Patrick punched you as an excuse to quit.”

Y/N huffed in response, but there was a part of her that knew he was right. She was using the fact that Patrick hit her as an excuse. It wasn’t the fact that he hit her that bothered her, she knew she held her own, it was the principal of Patrick’s lack of respect for her things. His lack of respect for _her_. Y/N wasn’t used to being treated in a horrible manner from other musicians, she was always treated with the respect she earned and deserved.

Still, there was no use in her being in a band where she wasn’t wanted, especially if she didn’t have an instrument or the money to buy a new one, “I’ve made my decision, Vic. I’ll catch a ride in the next city, and I’ll be out of your lives for good.”

“Y/N-”

“That guitar wasn’t just a guitar Vic,” she interrupted, not wanting to hear his bullshit any longer, “I’ve had that thing since I was a teen. It was the first thing I’ve earned on my own; I went through so much shit, I lost so much and all I had left was my guitar, my talent and my pride. I lost one of them already, I’m not going to lose the other two just because some psycho asshole can’t play nice and I’m expected to ignore his bullshit.”

Vic planted his forehead against the wooden railing of the bunk, “Y/N, please don’t go.”

“There are plenty of people dying to be in Mind Failure, replacing me shouldn’t be too hard,” she stated firmly, wanting the conversation to be over so she could get some rest.

“But we don’t want anyone else, we want  _you_.”

“Your guitarist doesn’t.”

“He does, he just doesn’t know it yet,” Vic responded.

Y/N groaned, “Vic, I’m tired. I want to rest. I have a long trip ahead of me, and I don’t know when I’ll rest on a mattress again.”

Vic’s eyes widened in shock, the reality of what she was saying sinking in, “Are you saying-”

“Relax, Vic. I’ve been homeless before, I can survive on my own,” she casually interrupted as she made herself comfortable on the mattress, “I’ve done it before.”

She turned on the mattress, wincing slightly as she laid on her tender areas, the pressure from laying on them both hurting and slightly soothing her. She heard the soft sight escape from Vic’s lips before he left the bunk room, shutting the door quietly behind him as he undoubtedly left to relay her departure to the rest of the guys and that she was serious.

No amount of music was worth this bullshit, there were a bunch of other bands that she could join that would appreciate and treat her better than Mind Failure did.

Right?

 

* * *

 

Y/N awoke to the feeling of someone staring at her. Her eyes flew open and she found herself staring into a pair of baby blue orbs, “What the fuck are you doing?”

Henry had his elbows propped on the railing, his hands were holding his face that held a bored expression, “Waiting for your bitch ass to wake up. You mumble in your sleep.”

“Yeah, that’s not fucking creepy or anything,” she teased, stretching and wincing as the pain in her body returned with a vengeance, “I half expected that shit from Hockstetter.”

“He probably would have fucked you in your sleep,” Henry said, “I can call him in if you want; god knows he’s probably aching for a good fuck after that beating you gave him. Probably turned him on.”

“That’s fucking gross, Henry,” Y/N scowled in disgust, “I wouldn’t touch that fucker with a ten-foot pole.”

Henry shrugged while he lit a joint in his fingers. He took a quick puff, making sure it was properly lit before handing it over to her as he exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, “For your pain.”

“Thanks,” she whispered, taking a long drag, exhaling in relief as she awaited the effects to kick in and do their duty. Y/N glanced around the bunk room, noticing the light that came in to the room was muted with a hue of dark blue, pink and purple. The bus was still, not moving around as it would if they were on the road, “How long have we been stopped?”

“Not that long, just stopped to pick up some shit,” Henry answered, tapping the wooden edges of the bunk, “I heard you were serious about going- well I don’t know where the fuck you’re going but I heard you weren’t staying here.”

“You were there when I said I was quitting, Henry.”

“I didn’t think you were serious.”

“Then who told Vic?”

“Who the fuck else do you think? I ain’t a fucking snitch or gossip queen,” Henry said, snatching the joint from Y/N, slightly offended at the prospect of being called a snitch, “Vic was bitching out Pat about y’alls fight while you drenched yourself in the shower, and Pat decided he was going to gloat about making you quit or some shit.”

“So much for not being a gossip queen,” Y/N teased, sitting up on the bunk as she brushed her hair out of her face.

“Fuck off,” Henry retorted, handing the joint back to her.

“I _am_  quitting, Henry, nothing is going to change my mind,” she asserted as she took the joint back, bringing it to her lips.

“I didn’t peg you as a little bitch,” he alleged.

“I’m not being-”

“You _are_ being a little bitch,” he repeated, “You threw down with some fuckers at a bar with me, you brawled with us backstage, you fucked up Patrick, and just because he decided to trash your shit you decide to quit the band. That makes you a little bitch.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at him, taking a puff from the joint, exhaling as she retorted, “He doesn’t have respect for me or my shit, Henry. He made that much clear. Besides, I don’t have any equipment, and Johnny Ray isn’t going to pay me until some fucking accounting bullshit gets straightened out.”

Henry scoffed, leaning down to the bunk beneath hers. He grunted as he pulled out a brand new, shiny Ibanez JEM77P Steve Vai signature guitar. The black background was barely visible with the overlay of blue floral patterns on the body. Her eyes wandered to the fretboard, maple and walnut with blue vines tracing over the neck. It was the same one that she told herself over and over that she would eventually own. Her eyes locked on Henry’s as she held out the guitar to her, “You’re not allowed to quit on us.”

“Henry-”

“It’s for you,” he said, still holding it out to her, “I scoured the depths of your Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, and every other social media shit site you’re on to even get a clue what you’d like. Luckily, you posted a pic of this Steve Vai model.”

Y/N’s eyes teared up at the sight of the guitar in front of her, “Henry, I know how much this cost, I don’t think-”

“I do what I want with my money,” he interrupted, “Hockstetter ain’t going to pay for what he did to you, but I can. Besides, it’s the least I could do for you having my back.”

“I can’t-”

“Fucking take the damn guitar, Y/N, I’m tired of holding it out to you, this shit is kinda heavy,” he said, pressing the guitar on her lap. Y/N hesitated to touch the instrument with her hands, afraid that she might diminish its beauty.

Her eyes began to water as her bottom lip quivered. She held her arm up to her mouth to cover a sob. She pushed the guitar off her lap, slowly making her way off the bunk as she threw her arms over Henry’s unsuspecting frame. He stiffened for a moment, not used to the obvious affection given to him by someone willingly. She sobbed delicately into his shoulder, sniffling as she whispered, “Thank you.”

Henry’s stiff demeanor relaxed as he threw his strong arms over her, squeezing her tightly, “You’re welcome, shug. Now,” he paused, gently pushing her away as his calloused hands wiped off her tears, “Stop crying and prep your fucking guitar for tomorrow’s show- you have the equipment, are you going to stay?”

Y/N wiped her eyes on her sleeve as more tears escaped, “But, Patrick-”

“Is going to have to stop being a little bitch about you being here. He’ll get used to you, just don’t put up with his shit, and don’t let him drive you to quit,” he said.

“Vic says to ignore him-”

“Don’t fucking ignore him. Put that mother fucker in his place, it’s the only way you’ll win a shred of his respect- point is, you’re staying. We need you, and I like you more than the other idiots that have joined this band,” he said, playfully punching her on the shoulder, “Understood?”

Y/N nodded dumbly in response, “Yeah.”

“Good, now try out your new guitar, shug, I wanna post a pic on my Instagram,” he ordered, pulling his phone out.

Y/N pulled herself back onto her bunk; she dragged the guitar over to her lap, her fingers curled around the fretboard as she strummed the strings, listening closely to the tuning and adjusting it accordingly. She was vaguely aware of the snapping sound of Henry’s iPhone going off, her mind occupied with her new instrument.

“Are the strings good?” Henry asked.

“They’re good,” she answered, playing a Mind Failure song with her eyes closed; the sounds of her fingers strumming the strings was literally music to her ears, “I love it so much, Henry.”

Henry chuckled softly, “Good. Keep practicing, shug. I’m gonna order some fucking pizza, you down for that?”

Y/N nodded in response, her eyes still closed as she allowed the sounds of the melody to overtake her. Henry tapped her foot gently before he left the room, closing the door behind him. She stared after the door, surprised that Henry was a sweetheart under all the thick skin. It shouldn’t have surprised her though, people like them were rough on the outside, but complete softies inside.

In that instant, the door opened once more, only it wasn’t Henry or Vic or Belch; it was the last person in the world she wanted to see. His grey green eyes were fixated on the guitar in her hands as he made his way inside and climbed into his bunk. His nimble fingers lit a cigarette as he plopped himself down with a satisfied sigh, Patrick continued to stare at her, his hair falling over his face as he did so, “Steve Vai signature guitar, that shit alone is worth about 2 grand,” he started, exhaling the smoke through his nose, “You sucked his dick for that didn’t you?”

Y/N refused to allow him to have some kind of effect on her; she continued to stare back at him as she played the song on her new guitar, pursing her lips to keep from giving him the satisfaction of getting under her skin. Patrick smirked mischievously, a new thought crossing his intrigued features, “Or you probably fucked him. Must have been really good to make Bowers go out of his way to buy you a guitar worth two fucking grand.”

“Or maybe he’s not an asshole like you are,” she retorted.

“Oh, but he is,” Patrick sneered, leaning forward on his elbows, “So tell me;  _did_  you fuck him?”

Y/N remained silent, refusing to answer his stupid question, continuing to bite her tongue as she played on her new guitar, reminding herself that he wasn’t worth her anger. But, damn it if he didn’t make it difficult. The fucker knew how to get to her; especially considering the fact that he put her on the level he would put the groupies that fucked the guys just to say they fucked them… Y/N had standards. And morals. At least, now she did.

Patrick licked his lips the longer he stared at her, his stare turned from intrigue to what looked to be flirtatious, confusing the living hell out of her. She paused from her guitar playing, furrowing her brows as she adjusted herself on the bunk, “Why the hell are you staring at me like that, Hockstetter?”

He shrugged as he brought the cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply, “Your pussy must be  _really_ good to make Bowers buy you a two thousand dollar guitar…”

“Fuck off, Hockstetter, I didn’t fuck Henry!”

“Whatever you say,  _shug_ ,” he said, mocking the nickname that Henry bestowed on her, “If I’d have known that all it took was a fuck to get you a new guitar then I gladly would have bought you one.”

“Please, as if I’d even be interested in your micro dick; and I don’t think your bitch ass could keep up,” she snapped.

“How ‘bout you bend over and I show you?”

“How about you fuck yourself?”

His smirk grew into a wide grin, he threw the lit cigarette into his mouth, making Y/N’s brows crinkle further at the action. If this was some form of peacocking, it was terrible… yet, somehow, she found herself somewhat impressed as he swallowed it, taking a sip of a bottle of vodka he had stashed in his mess of a bunk, “Wanna watch?

Y/N rolled her eyes in response, “I know what you’re trying to do, Hockstetter. Can’t get rid of me with your usual antics so now you’re sinking to sexual harassment to try to get under my skin; lemme tell you something, it’s not gonna work.”

“You sure about that?”

“One hundred percent sure; not gonna happen, I’m not going anywhere.”

“All the more reason to fuck you,” he grinned, eyeing her up and down, making Y/N feel slightly uncomfortable.

“In your dreams,” she snapped, pushing the guitar off her lap as she pushed herself off the bunk, doing her best not to show that he got to her. Her feet hit the carpeted floor with a soft thud as she drew the guitar towards her, finally having enough of Patrick’s bullshit.

“We’ll see,” he smugly taunted as she shut the door behind her with a slam.

 _Fucking idiot_ , she thought to herself, fuming in silence as she took a seat on the couch in the lounge area,  _what the hell makes him think I’d ever touch him? Much less, fuck him? Stupid son of a bitch._

Still, she couldn’t help the intrigue and curiosity build up inside of her at the thought. She felt the heat rise in between her legs at the idea of it,  _maybe I could just try it._

She shook her head in disgust with herself, reminding herself that Patrick Hockstetter was an asshole and he literally was the reason why her guitar was in a garbage can somewhere. Add to the fact that he left her bloody and bruised all over; that alone should have been enough to deter her curiosity. But, sadly it wasn’t, as she found herself imagining Patrick bending her over the table in the lounge and fucking her raw.

_What the hell is wrong with you?_

She thought about her own question for a moment, wondering why the hell she was entertaining the idea, sighing softly as she came to her conclusion,  _Everything._

 

* * *

 

The night dragged on as they arrived on the next tour stop on the roster, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Y/N yawned in exhaustion as she stretched her sore body out on the couch, barely taking notice that the guys had all, surprisingly, went to bed early; with the exception of Patrick who wandered off the way he normally did to who the fuck knew where. She gave up on trying to figure out where Patrick wandered off to the second night she was with them. Even then, it wasn’t her business to be concerned about someone she despised.  

She gently stood on her feet, grunting as her bones cracked from the hours hunched over on her guitar. She yawned quietly, feeling the tendrils of exhaustion pull her in; sluggishly, she carefully carried her new guitar to the bunk room, figuring she’d have a smoke before she went to bed.

The door creaked slightly while she tiptoed into the bunk room, trying her best not to make any kind of noise to rouse the sleeping men in their bunks. Belch slept with his mouth wide open, his breathing extremely heavy due to lack of proper sleep. Henry laid on his stomach, snoring loudly while drool escaped his lips and his right arm hung over the edge of his bunk. Vic, on the other hand, looked completely serene with a sleeping mask over his eyes that read  _Fuck Off_  while a small Bluetooth speaker played the sound of ocean waves beside him.

Y/N softly placed her guitar on her bunk, patting her pockets for the pack of cigarettes that Henry bought for her earlier. Lazily, she dragged herself out of the bunks, cursing herself silently for almost tripping over a pile of what she assumed were Henry, or Patrick’s clothes strewn over the floor,  _fucking messy assholes._

Sighing heavily as she opened the front door of the tour bus, she stepped outside into the cool Pennsylvania air. Her hands reached for her cigarettes and her lighter, inhaling deeply while she watched the tip of the cigarette begin to glow to life. A cloud of wispy white smoke escaped her lips as she exhaled, watching the venue they were going to play from a distance, chuckling to herself that she was still a member of the band when she literally quit hours earlier in the day.

It was obvious that Vic, Belch and Henry wanted her in the band, and it was also obvious that Patrick didn’t want her in the band, but now she was extremely confused as to where she stood with Patrick.

Just yesterday he was throwing fists with her in the parking lot of a festival, and now hours ago, he was talking about wanting to fuck her. He could still hate her and want to fuck her, right?

Groaning, Y/N recalled the words Vic spoke to her a few days ago,  _I stopped trying to figure out the Rubik’s cube that is Patrick’s mind_. He was right about that, still, Y/N felt that maybe she was reading a little too much into it. He was probably just trying to make her uncomfortable.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a strumming guitar. Stupidly, she glanced around the street, walking along the sidewalk to find the phantom guitar player that was strumming his guitar serenely in the middle of the night. She got to the end of the street, turning her head left and right only to find absolutely nothing.

As she turned back, however, she saw a vague shadow on the roof of the bus. Brining the cigarette to her lips, she squinted her eyes to try to get a better look at who the fuck was on the tour bus, clenching her fists in preparation for an ass kicking.

A small scoff escaped her lips upon realizing who it was perched atop the bus with a lawn chair and a guitar; Patrick. She could only guess what the hell he was doing up there. Slowly, she made her way towards the bus, noticing that maybe he was in the middle of working on a song. Her mind was immediately curious about his process. Taking advantage of the fact that he hadn’t noticed her yet, she decided to maybe catch a glimpse of his song writing.

Y/N quietly reached the back of the tour bus, pressing herself against the cool metal to try to hear him better over the sound of the loud engine. The song he played wasn’t one she had heard before, but it sounded amazing as he played the notes he came up with, pausing every now and then to write them, she guessed.

He talked softly to himself for a moment. Y/N, still curious about his progression, climbed the first two steps of the ladder, doing her best to remain inconspicuous and quiet. Realizing that the smoke from her cigarette was wafting upwards. Groaning at the waste of a cigarette, she quickly tossed it as best as she could under the bus.

Finally, Patrick began to strum his guitar again and to her surprise, he also began to sing. His voice wasn’t anything like Vic’s, which was high and beautiful. Patrick’s was more on the gruff, raspy side, almost. She strained to hear him better and barely caught a line of the song he was singing, “ _World passing by, leaving traces of shapes, blurring into memory_.”

Patrick paused again, humming the next part of the song to himself. Y/N, deciding that she didn’t want him to lose his shit if he caught her eavesdropping on him, slowly jumped down from the ladder and tiptoed soundlessly towards the entrance to the bus, the sound of Patrick’s guitar and raspy singing a ambiguous ringing behind her as she closed the door silently.

From inside, she could scarcely hear him still singing and playing above her in the lounge area. Yawning, she made her way towards the bunk room, feeling a strange fluttering in her stomach and chest the more Patrick played and sang.

The door creaked when she turned the knob and pushed it open once more, slowly, she tried her best to maneuver around the piles of filthy clothes on the floor. Frustrated with the mess on the floor, she pulled out her phone and switched on the flashlight, trying to keep the light on the ground and away from the boy’s sleeping faces.

She tossed her flashlight onto her bunk, carefully pushing her guitar towards the wall of her small bunk to keep it safe from any prying hands that would do it harm. Patrick got a beating last time, if he so much as touched this guitar that was generously gifted to her from Henry, she would murder him.

Just as she was propping herself to climb onto her bunk, she caught a glimpse of more scattered papers on Patrick’s bunk strewn all over the place, some yellowed and some freshly torn out of a notebook while others were crumpled up,  _How the hell can he sleep in that mess?_

She chuckled as she looked at her own bunk with her signature Steve Vai guitar on it as if it was her lover, coming to the conclusion that she wasn’t any better. Her eyes trailed back to the papers on Patrick’s bunk, and as much as she tried not to be nosy or pry, she couldn’t’ resist the lure of Patrick Hockstetter’s- the mastermind of Mind Failure- writing process, figuring it might give her a deeper look into his personality.

Y/N wasn’t sure what made the idea of figuring Patrick Hockstetter out so alluring, but damn it if it didn’t begin to consume her. She glanced at the door, making sure that she wasn’t caught off guard as she tiptoed to Patrick’s bunk that was stained with cum, dried up blood and smelled of ass, pussy and dick put together, “Ugh.”

Her eyes scanned the pieces of paper that were stuffed between the walls, each one of them holding a simple sentence, she glanced down to the full sheets of paper, noticing that some of the sentences were put onto what she assumed was the rough draft of a song. She picked up the piece of paper closest to her, immediately recognizing one of the sentences that Patrick was singing moments ago. As quickly as she could, she scanned the paper, furrowing her brows at some of the song lines, pursing her lips at the comments written messily on the side in Patrick’s handwriting,  _doesn’t make sense. Switch lines two and three out. Need a bridge._

She could faintly hear Patrick still singing, and pausing, working on the melody and patterns of his new song. He didn’t have the full thing finished yet, and so far, the song was coming together nicely, save for a few tweaks here and there. She could offer to help him, having written her own material for years, but she knew that he would never go for it. Still, she couldn’t resist the urge to help him make this song worthy of Mind Failure, so when her hands reached for a pen that was stuffed between the sheets, making a few adjustments to the song- including adding a bridge- she did not feel an ounce of regret.

There was no telling how long she stood there letting words flow from her mind to the pen and paper. All she knew was that when she was finished, her words meshed so perfectly with Patrick’s, at least in her opinion they did. Upon hearing the sound of the front door of the bus slamming shut, she quickly stuffed the pen back in its place and tried her best to put the piece of paper that contained the song back where she found it.

Y/N immediately jumped onto her bunk, quickly shutting off the flashlight on her phone and closing the small curtain on her bunk, turning on her side as she listened in anticipation for Patrick to enter the room. A few moments later, after the sound of bottles clattering in the lounge she heard the door open and the soft sound of shuffling as Patrick kicked the piles of clothes away from the walkway.

Her eyes were wide in the darkness as she listened to him pull himself on his bunk and push his boots off, landing on the ground with a soft thud. From the small cracks of her curtain, she saw the faint glow of a yellow light and the thorough sound of crinkling papers as the smell of a cigarette wafted into her nostrils. The room was silent for a moment as he paused his movement. Her body tensed, wondering if he was reading the additions she made to his song,  _He’s gonna fucking fight me again._

 _Fuck,_  she thought to herself, preparing her body for another onslaught of fists.

But nothing came. The only sound Patrick made was a faint, “Hm.”

He then began to quietly hum to himself as he simultaneously strummed his guitar, oddly enough, the sound of his playing and humming eased her, relaxing her tension as she finally allowed herself to relax at the sound of his quiet singing. She resisted the urge to hum along with him, but she did allow herself to place her fingers on her guitar as he played his leads, her mind already working on what would go great with the notes he was playing. After what seemed like hours, she felt her eyes begin to get heavy and the last thing she heard was Patrick’s voice softly singing the bridge she wrote,  _“With diminishing desire to always seek escape_ _.”_

 

* * *

 

The next morning was the usual bitching and fighting from the boys of Mind Failure. Y/N groaned as she glanced at the time on her phone. She pressed her face against the pillow, tossing her phone aside while she screeched into the fluffiness of her pillow at the sound of Henry and Vic fighting once more.

“Pick up your fucking dirty, crusted underwear!”

“I’ll fucking pick it up later, you damn fruitcake,” Henry retorted nonchalantly. Even now, Y/N could guess that Henry was casually eating a bowl of cereal or drinking coffee as Vic bitched him out. Their voices began to overlap, making Y/N’s irritation grow further.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

For a few moments, it was silent as both men tried to process Y/N bitching both of them out. But, since it was Henry and Vic, the fighting picked up again moments later after getting over the shock of being told off.

Realizing that she wasn’t going to get more sleep, she grunted angrily as she pulled her curtain open, mumbling crankily to herself only to be greeted by Patrick’s amused grin as he lit a joint on his bunk, “Did your beauty sleep get interrupted,  _Princess_?”

Y/N flipped him off, groaning as she stared at the ceiling of her bunk while her other hand rested over her forehead. She could see him adjusting his hair though her peripherals, pulling his hair into a bun as he pulled his guitar onto his lap, playing the same melody he did last night while staring at her. She tried not to make her nervousness apparent as he sang the bridge she wrote last night over and over. It was as if he was making a point to show her that he knew she wrote it.

She rolled off her bunk, landing on her feet and quickly turning towards the door, completely ignoring his stare that seemed to follow her even as she had her back turned on him. She let the door slam closed behind her, immediately being taken aback by the fight that was taking place in the lounge, “Oh my fucking—”

Henry shoved Vic into the wall as Vic threw a nasty right punch into Henry’s jaw, Belch stormed out of the restroom, running into the guys that were struggling to put each other down. He jumped on the boys, pressing his forearm against Henry’s chest, “Cool it!”

“Get the fuck off me—”

Y/N swiftly reached for Vic, who was ready to kick Henry in the face. She hooked her arms around his own, pressing his back against her chest as she dragged him backwards while Belch worked on calming Henry. The door to the bunk flew open as Patrick stood at the doorway, barking a laugh at the scene in front of him.

“If you’re not going to help, get the fuck back in the room, Hockstetter!” Belch shouted, pointing a finger at Patrick.

Patrick held his hands up in defeat, tendrils of hair falling from his messy bun as he reached for the joint between his lips and his eyes fell on Y/N who was holding Vic against the counter, “You can always just fuck him and calm him down, you know.”

“Fuck off, Hockstetter,” Y/N groaned, rolling her eyes at his insult. Of all fucking times, he had to bring it up now.

“What the fuck did you say?” Henry asked, his anger suddenly redirected from Vic to Patrick.

“Don’t act like you don’t want to, Bowers, you told me the only reason you agreed to let her in the band was so you could fuck her raw,” Patrick said as he nonchalantly leaned against the doorway, “Hell, Vic over here was the one that said if we agreed we could all run a train on her. And Belch, weren’t you the one that said if I agreed to let her in I’d get to fuck her first?”

Everyone’s eyes were now on Patrick, except for Y/N, who was staring at Henry and the boys with disgust. She released her hold on Vic as she turned to each of the boys in the lounge, betrayal strong in her veins upon seeing the expression on their faces, almost as if it was a secret that should only be kept between them.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Patrick asked, slowly walking towards her, ignoring the shocked boys around him, “Your buddies over there didn’t tell you?”

Her eyes met Henry’s baby blue orbs, willing for the words that came out of Patrick’s lips to be a lie, “Is that true?”

Henry sighed deeply, pushing Belch off of him as the bigger man landed on the floor next to him, “Y/N, I don’t see you that way anymore, you know that.”

“And you?” she asked, glancing at Vic and then Belch. She didn’t need an answer from them; Belch made it obvious as he looked down in shame, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red while Vic kept his gaze locked on the ground.

“See, I may not have wanted you in the band, Y/N,” Patrick said, making her wince slightly at the sound of her name on his lips, “But I was the only one that was real with you from the start.”

“And why is this suddenly important to you? You don’t give a shit about me, you don’t respect me any more than these douchebags,” she retorted, pointing to the members of Mind Failure.

“If you’re going to stay, you might as well know what kind of dudes you kick it with,” he answered with a lazy shrug of his lanky shoulders, “Think you can hang with that?”

Arrogantly, he turned the joint over, placing it in Y/N’s slightly agape mouth. He smirked as he saluted the boys and walked out, completely unfazed by the obvious tension he created.

Once the door shut behind Patrick, Vic started to quickly explain himself, “He’s fucking with you, Y/N; he knows you’re not going anywhere so he wants to turn you against us.”

Y/N scoffed in disbelief, tossing the lit joint into a cup of cold coffee, “You know what, Hockstetter  _is_  an asshole, that much is obvious. But, at least he was upfront about it, unlike you guys that literally acted like you gave a shit about me in the beginning.”

“Y/N- we care about you a lot more than you think, you’re one us now and we would never-” Belch started.

But he was immediately interrupted by Henry, who got on his feet and was now staring directly at Y/N, fury plastered on his features, “You want the truth, Y/N? I’ve told you since the beginning that I wanted to fuck you. That’s not fucking news. But, I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t see you that way no more, I-  _we_ ,” he said, pointing at himself and the boys, “Got more respect for you now than that.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that-”

“It fucking does, Y/N. Did any of us  _try_  to make a move on you while you were here? As far as I recall, Vic and Belch had your back since day one, and yeah, they said some fucked up shit if only to get mine, and Patrick’s sorry ass to let you in the band,” Henry seethed, “You wanna be mad at someone? Fucking be mad at me. But don’t take this shit out on the two dudes who saw you and said what they had to so you could be in the band.”

Y/N crossed her arms, biting her bottom lip at the words that were just said to her by Henry. Her thoughts went back to Patrick, and it suddenly made sense why he kept asking her if she fucked Henry for the guitar he bought her, “So the guitar wasn’t given to me in hopes that I’d fuck you?”

Henry sighed in disbelief, running a hand over his face as he spoke again, “I got you something that you wanted because you’re one of us now. I don’t expect shit from you other than what you’ve given me.”

Without warning, Henry stomped towards the door, pushing the door open so hard that the back hit the side of the bus with a loud slam. Vic stared at Y/N momentarily, finally opting to follow Henry, calling out to him as the door shut quietly behind him.

Belch was the last one in the room, watching her with sad eyes from his spot on the floor, “Henry is many things, Y/N, but he isn’t a liar. I’ve never seen him warm up to someone as quickly as he has with you. He’s smitten with you, though not in the way Patrick, or you, think.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“Because it wasn’t like we were going to follow through with it or allow the guys to do something like that to you,” Belch answered, propping himself up from the floor to sit on the couch, “I don’t know what Patrick’s intentions are, but, I don’t think you should believe everything he says. Patrick will say anything to get what he wants.”

“And what is it that he wants, Belch?” Y/N asked, mildly irritated with the boys, with the band, with herself. There couldn’t be one day without the high school girl drama, apparently.

The husky man shrugged as he turned his cap backwards, “I thought I knew, but there’s no telling with that guy.”

Y/N kept thinking about their interactions lately, and how they seemed to have been less malicious since the fight, since Henry had given her the guitar. Her head began to hurt at how confusing Patrick was, normally she could figure someone out right away, but Belch was right. There was no telling what the hell Patrick Hockstetter was up to.

“If I were you,” Belch started, laying back on the couch, “I’d go and make things right with Henry, Vic and I will get over it, but Henry takes everything personally. If you want to save the friendship y’all have, and if it’s worth that much to you, swallow your pride and go to him. You’re going to need him on your side if Hockstetter keeps trying to fuck with you.”

Y/N stood in the center of the room silently, her eyes on the floor as Belch began to snore silently, falling asleep a lot quicker than she had expected. She wanted to be angry at Henry for the shit he wanted to do to her… but she also knew that he was right, and that he didn’t see her in that way anymore. She thought about what Belch said about Henry warming up to her as quickly as he did.

Sighing, she decided to follow Belch’s advice. Swallowing whatever pride she had, she stepped out of the tour bus to look for Henry. As it happened, she didn’t have to search far as he was leaning against the tour bus; his forehead and Vic’s were pressed together, while Vic’s hand was pressed against the back of Henry’s head, no doubt giving him a pep talk while Henry smoked a cigarette.

Y/N cleared her throat to signal her presence, prompting the boys to look up at her, “I can come back later…”

“I’ll get lost,” Vic said, patting Henry on the shoulder as if offering some emotional support.

She watched Vic retreat into the tour bus, waiting until they were completely alone to speak, “Wanna go for a walk?”

Henry’s hard gaze was fixed on her, the anger clear in his eyes as he rolled his eyes and answered, “We can talk here.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, annoyed with his stubbornness, “Fine; look, I just—I shouldn’t have listened to Patrick. I know you don’t see me that way anymore, and I know you wouldn’t do something out of the goodness of your heart and expect something in return from me.”

“And how do you know that, Y/N? For all you know, Patrick could be telling the truth and I might want to fuck you,” Henry said in a mocking, condescending tone, simultaneously taking a puff from his cigarette.

“I know it because you’re not like that, Henry. You fuck groupies that mean nothing to you without hesitation, but the people you care about… you don’t treat them like they’re nothing,” Y/N answered, crossing her arms.

“You’ve known me for a week or two, that doesn’t mean you know what I’m like.”

“But I do know,” Y/N retorted, “I know more about you than you think. And I know that you know more about me than I let on.”

Henry’s glare shifted from one of anger to one of compassion as he stared at her momentarily, “It was my dad, for me.”

“My ex, and my dad too,” Y/N shared, feeling a slight tremble in her body as she finally spoke the words out loud. Henry, catching on to her slight anxious nature, handed her his cigarette that was smoked three quarters of the way.

“I figured,” Henry said, leaning his head against the metal of the bus, “You don’t like being touched, and you get violent easily. Not to mention, you can take a hit.”

“Tends to happen when you date assholes,” Y/N shrugged, recalling the times her ex, Anthony, beat her to the point of unconsciousness multiple times.

“I like you, Y/N,” Henry said, immediately rushing to explain himself when Y/N furrowed her brows, “Not in a romantic kinda way, chill shug. I think you’re a badass chick; I think of you as a sister or a cousin or some shit like that. I thought what I thought about you, but I’ll never fucking do anything to disrespect you. As long as you stay, I got your back. Hell, even after.”

Y/N felt the prickling in her eyes once more at the kindness Henry Bowers was showing her. She looked away, choking back the tears as she replied, “And I got yours too.”

“Aw come here,” Henry teased, holding his arms out to her. Y/N chuckled, wiping the tears off the corners of her eyes as she dragged her legs into Henry’s strong arms. He held her closely, planting a kiss on the top of her head, “We’re good, shug.”

“Good, because I don’t want to give that Steve Vai guitar back,” Y/N joked, playfully pinching his nipple.

Henry gasped in pain, putting Y/N in a headlock as he closed his fist and gave her a good old fashioned noogie, followed by a wet willie, making Y/N squeal in disgust. When he finally released her, Y/N’s hands reached for her ear as she pulled on the hem of Henry’s shirt to dry the wetness of his spit inside.

“So, you’re super tight with Hockstetter,” Y/N stated.

Henry shrugged, “For the most part, yeah. He’s been a bitch lately, but we’re tight. He’s my brother.”

“What’s his deal?” Y/N asked, figuring she might get some insight into what the hell Hockstetter was up to.

“I wish I could tell you, shug. But one of the reasons why our friendship worked is because we don’t ask questions, we just do. Say I want to go and fuck up your ex for doing what he did to you, and I told him I wanted to fuck someone up. He wouldn’t ask who, he’d just drop what he’s doing and come with me,” Henry said.

Y/N nodded, releasing the hem of Henry’s shirt as she stood up straight. She leaned against the bus next to Henry, lighting a cigarette for him and then another for herself, “Is he still trying to get rid of me?”

“I don’t think so,” Henry answered as he exhaled, “If there’s one thing that Patrick respects, is someone who isn’t afraid of him. And you’re not afraid of him. I don’t think he’s trying to get rid of you, but I do think he’s up to something for starting shit like that for no fucking reason.”

“Belch said something similar,” Y/N informed, taking a drag from her cigarette as she watched Henry’s somewhat intrigued expression, “What do you think he’s up to?”

Henry’s brows knitted as he pondered his best friend’s antics. She watched him closely as his fists clenched and his breathing became heavy, and deeper. It was immediately masked when he turned to look at her, his messy mullet blowing slightly with the cool breeze, “I don’t know, shug, but if I find out I got your back.”

Y/N suspected he wasn’t telling her everything, and that he knew exactly what Patrick was up to. Just as she was about to press for more information, she and Henry both focused their glares on the lanky man with a messy bun walking towards them, a cigarette in his hand and smirk on his lips, “You kiss and make up that fast?”

Henry threw his arm around Y/N, pulling her closer to him, almost as if he was establishing his territory, “Gonna take more than that to get us to be pissed at each other, Pattycakes.”

Patrick shrugged indifferently as he took a drag from his cigarette. He chuckled momentarily, his hungry eyes falling on Y/N, eyeing her up and down once more. He continued walking towards the door of the tour bus, calling over his shoulder, “By the way, your edits to my song weren’t too bad, princess. I might just catch you alone for some help on my next one.”

Y/N was scarcely aware of Henry’s grip on her shoulder tightening. She stared after the tall man with a look of confusion and interest, feeling the heat between her legs intensify again. Her eyes widened upon the underlying realization of what his words meant.

Henry loosened his hold on her when Patrick disappeared into the tour bus, “What does he mean?”

“I saw a song that he was working on and I… decided to help?” she said, feeling suddenly nervous as Henry’s expression went from angry to worried.

“You—Look, whatever you do, please don’t let him catch you alone,” Henry said in a grave tone, as if her life depended on it.

“What? Why?”

“Because the songwriting process is something that no one else but Patrick touches, the fact that you did it,  _behind his back_ … god knows what the fuck he’s thinking and what the fuck he’s going to do to you,” Henry warned, his voice trembling slightly in what she could only guess was fear.

“Or maybe he literally just wants to collaborate on the songwriting process?”

“How many times have we told you, Y/N? No one knows what this fucker is capable of, I’ve seen him do the most fucked up shit imaginable, hell I’ve—” he paused, taking a deep breath as he caught himself from saying too much, making Y/N feel further suspicious about Mind Failure’s past, “Just, stay away from him, alright?”

Y/N’s brows crinkled in response to Henry’s warning, “Alright.”

“Good,” Henry said, sighing in relief. His mood went from worried to excited within a few moments as he was back to his normal self, “Now, get dressed so we can go out and get some fucking food; our set doesn’t start til about seven, so we got the whole day to chill.”

She chuckled at Henry’s childlike enthusiasm, hooking her arm around his, “Only if you cut that damn, shitty mullet.”

“Fuck that, I’m like fucking Samson. My power comes from my mullet, if I cut it off, how would I get laid?”

“With your winning personality?”

Henry barked a laugh as Y/N guffawed at her own joke. Both of them reveling in their growing friendship together. Still, even though she was extremely pleased with her friendship with Henry, she still couldn’t fight back the heat that she felt between her legs anytime she thought about Patrick.

She thought about the question she had earlier, if he could still hate her and want to fuck her. Most likely… but the more she thought about it, the more she wondered if Patrick really did hate her, and maybe the reason he outed the boys the way he did was to eliminate any kind of competition.

 _You’re being stupid, Patrick doesn’t want you, and you don’t want him_ , she told herself.

So then why was it that as she walked the streets of Pittsburgh with the boys of Mind Failure, that her eyes kept stealing glances at the tall, heavily tattooed musical mastermind that was Patrick Hockstetter?


	7. 3 Libras

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really went off on this one. And I couldn’t help but add one of my favorite characters from one of my favorite movies, to any of you that know me, you’ll know who I mean. But, I needed a plot device to move the story forward, and what better way than jealousy? Its a fantastic motivator. So, you’ve been warned, now go on and read. Also, this chapter was based on the song 3 Libras by A Perfect Circle, I recommend you listen to it, as it represents Patrick’s thought process towards the reader.
> 
> Warnings: Language. Drug use. Alcohol use. Sexism. Sexual harassment. Sexual activity, I mean somewhat NSFW? Mentions of nudity. Some fluff. Angst.

Weeks had passed since Y/N’s altercation with Patrick Hockstetter, it was a sort of calm that blanketed itself within the band as they all readjusted to time on the road with “limited” comforts; though she couldn’t understand what was so limited about it. The boys were practically coddled by Johnny Ray, who even from across the country, made sure the boys had everything they needed and wanted. Even Vic seemed to have eased up on Henry’s antics, and Belch relaxed his normally tense stature at the idea that Henry and Patrick were going to start their shit. Which they did, after the songwriting incident, Henry made it a point to shadow Patrick consistently, making sure he wasn’t left alone with Y/N.

Though, Y/N suspected that Patrick didn’t seem to mind the company, as the boys wandered off to raise hell in whichever city they happened to be playing that night. Life seemed to integrate itself the way it was before Y/N appeared, she guessed. Even Patrick seemed to ease up on his normal bullying, mostly ignoring her and vaguely acknowledging her existence.

Though, at times, she felt a sense of unease and shivers down her spine, only to turn and find Patrick Hockstetter intently staring at her as if he was unraveling every fiber of her being, observing her under a microscope and picking her apart piece by piece. Moments like that made her wonder what the hell he was up to and why he suddenly became intrigued by her, if that’s what one would call it. But Patrick would simply sneer and turn away, lighting a joint as he laid back in his bunk and sang quietly to himself, occasionally glancing over towards her.

Patrick didn’t seem to make a big deal out of her interference with the song writing process the way Henry said he would. It made her think that maybe he didn’t mind as much as she thought he would, but she hadn’t heard him practicing in front of her, or at all for that matter. She supposed that maybe he disregarded her input in his new song. But, she still couldn’t resist the allure of penning her own words on his sheets of paper when he wasn’t around.

It was a risky move, she knew it, and she knew she shouldn’t be doing it. However, the lyrics and words that Patrick’s mind wove together like an intricate linen pattern with bright vivid colors made her want to contribute, making her feel like his words and her own meshed together so perfectly.

The darkness in his lyrics further enticing her and calling to her, beckoning her to pour her own mind into it. And she did so, listening attentively in the dead of night for him to acknowledge her contributions… but he never did. And if her words ever made it into his songs, she would never know until it came down to recording the new album, and even then, she wasn’t sure if she was going to stick around that long.

Johnny Ray had yet to inform her if she was going to be sticking around till then. The guys assured her that they wanted her around when it came down to record their next studio album, which would be recorded a few months after the tour and some much needed R&R. Well, almost all the guys, again, Patrick had yet to comment on whether or not he was fine with having her in the band now.

He wasn’t as much of an asshole on stage either, at times even going as far as to pull her in before their next song and planting a wet, sloppy kiss on her cheeks, smothering his bloody saliva on her from yet another fight he started backstage, and the fans went wild at the actions.

Overall, things were starting to feel civil, but Y/N knew better than to make herself seem comfortable, because underneath the calm mask that Patrick Hockstetter displayed, there was something disturbing and dark about the songwriter of the band just waiting to be unleashed.

 

* * *

 

Houston Texas was just as she’d remembered it all those years ago. She had lived in Houston for a few months during her younger years, allowing the breeze of life to take her where it needed to go. She had some fond memories of the place, but also terrible ones as she recalled the emotional and physical torment of living with a man that was older than her.

She quickly brought her cigarette to her lips, allowing the nicotine and tobacco to soothe her nerves as pieces of another ex came flooding back. Instead, she focused on her surroundings, observing as the boys stalked through the streets. The climate was hot and humid, making the boys very uncomfortable and cranky. Y/N furrowed her brows as she heard Vic complain for what seemed to be the millionth time, “You guys are being pussies.”

“We’re from fucking Derry, Maine, Y/N, heat like his will literally kill us,” Vic complained, tapping his forehead with a black handkerchief, refusing to wipe it off like a normal human being because  _‘oh, it’s going to irritate my skin if I just wipe it off, do you know how long it takes me to get through my skin care routine?’_

“ _He’s_  not complaining,” Y/N mumbled, pointing towards Patrick with her cigarette, who was walking down the street ten feet in front of them without a care in the world, a joint hanging in his lips to make that point obvious.

“That’s because Patrick is from hell, he’s used to the heat,” Belch pointed, wiping off the sweat from his forehead while Henry trailed behind him, his brows crinkled together as he tried not to explode from the uncomfortable heat, “Where are we even going?”

“Patrick said something about a bar,” Henry answered from behind, now scrolling through his phone to distract himself as he adjusted his denim vest with his other hand, “Said he wants to catch a few drinks before we get back to the bus and get ready.”

“We have liquor in the bus,” Vic groaned, rolling his eyes at having to dab his forehead with his hankie again, “Why couldn’t we just stay in the nice cool air of the bus? I mean, c’mon guys its fucking terrible out here and I can’t stand it—”

“Fucking hell, Vic. Shut your bitch mouth before I stick my dick in it and make you shut it,” Patrick called over his shoulder, “I can hear you bitching from over here you punk ass fruitcake!”

“ITS FUCKING HOT!” Vic shouted, making the other pedestrians on the street stare at him in confusion, “What the fuck are you looking at?!”

“Hey, no one fucking told you to wear leather pants in fucking Texas, the fuck’s the matter with you?” Henry alleged, squeezing himself between Vic and Y/N, casually tossing a sweaty arm over Y/N’s shoulder and pulling her close to show her the screen on his phone, “What about this girl? She’s gonna be at the show tonight.”

Y/N pushed her aviator sunglasses down to the tip of her nose to get a better look at the girl’s Instagram page, “She’s cute.”

Henry scowled, side eying Y/N as he exited her page and started scrolling through the number of women that commented on the picture he posted of the Houston buildings, announcing Mind Failure’s arrival into the city, “I don’t need cute; I want smoking hot.”

“You’re being an asshole,” Y/N snapped as she pushed her sunglasses back over her eyes, “I thought you were looking for a nice girlfriend.”

“Nice as in big tits, huge round ass—  _nice_ ,” he explained as he tapped on the next possible candidate.

Y/N shook her head at her friend’s obvious sexism. Lately, Henry had been fixated on finding a girl to fuck prior to the show, it was his way of solidifying any kind of lay and keep Patrick from calling dibs first, since that’s how it’s been as of late.

According to Henry, the girls at the shows have been adamant about sleeping with him because of his close relationship with Y/N, it got to the point where people on fan sites were claiming they were a couple. And it wasn’t any help to Henry that Y/N had thrown out the crazy fangirl with the huge tits,  _what was her name? Michelle?_  It didn’t matter. Ever since then, the girl had claimed that Y/N was fucking Henry and that’s how she got in the band.

Of course, many fans refused to believe such a rumor and instead claimed that they were sure something was brewing between her and Patrick. The thought was insanity in and of itself, still, at times she caught herself entertaining the idea. Such as now, as she watched Patrick strut down the street in his heavy combat boots, torn black skinny jeans tucked sloppily inside as the tops of his boots remained loose. The loose Jack Daniels muscle shirt he wore exposed his heavily tattooed arms while the cut sides also showed off his tattooed ribs. His hair was pulled back in a sloppy bun as he continued to stalk down the sidewalk, the baby hairs towards his hair line matted against his skin.

She furrowed her brows, angrily adjusting her gaze as she took another drag from her cigarette, “If that’s all you’re looking for Henry, you won’t have a hard time finding it.”

“Ugh,” Henry grimaced, pushing his phone into the pockets of his jeans, “You’re being a fucking killjoy, Y/N. You need a good dicking.”

“I do not!”

“Yes, you do. How about this; tonight,  _I’ll_  be your wingman. I’ll find you some poor dude to smash that pussy into the next life,” Henry said, tossing an arm over her shoulders and pulling her in, planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

“I don’t want to get fucked by some punk ass dickwad that’ll probably cum within a minute of sticking it in,” she scoffed, tossing the filter of her cigarette on the sidewalk, ignoring the do not litter sign she walked by.

“Fine! I’ll find you a chick, how do you like them? I have a feeling you’re open to whatever body type—”

“Henry, I don’t want to get fucked!” she shouted, the attention of the passersby now on her as she lowered her gaze to her feet, feeling the heat on her face from the mortification.

Henry snickered beside her, along with Belch and Vic, “I rest my case.”

“Just because I’m frustrated doesn’t mean I need to get laid,” Y/N huffed.

“I’d offer to do it, but, a man can only handle so much rejection,” Henry joked, reminding her of the many times he said he’d fuck her when she joined the band.

“Patrick would gladly do it,” Vic said from behind them. Y/N and Henry, along with Belch all turned to meet Vic’s thoughtful gaze, “What? It’s  _true_.”

“They  _hate_  each other’s guts, Vic,” Belch started, his brows crinkled together as he continued, “Or have you forgotten their brawl outside that took place a few weeks ago?”

“I’m just saying— since then, Patrick’s been…  _calm_. He hasn’t tried to fuck with her,” Vic suggested.

“Not that we know of,” Henry countered, the irritation clear in his voice at what Vic was suggesting, “Besides, Y/N wouldn’t go for a dude like Pat, would you?”

The three boys stared at her as they awaited her answer. A part of her was tempted to say yes, there was something alluring about the possibility of fucking someone she despised. But the look on Henry’s face, and the fact that Patrick was an asshole made her answer, “No.”

“See?” Henry said as his point was made, “She doesn’t want Patrick.”

“That doesn’t mean  _he_  doesn’t want her,” Vic pushed, “I mean, are you guys fucking stupid? Haven’t you noticed how he stares at her? Even on stage, he can’t keep his eyes off of her. It’s like he’s fucking obsessed or some shit, I’ve  _never_ seen Hockstetter like that and I can tell you—”

“Vic, shut the fuck up. Patrick doesn’t want to fuck her, Patrick doesn’t want her, he wants to  _hurt_  her, and I’ll be fucked raw in the ass before Patrick lays his filthy hands on her,” Henry growled, trying to keep his voice low as the passersby continued to stare at them. Even Patrick looked over his shoulder to see what the ruckus was about, but he immediately lost interest when he saw that no one was fighting or no blood was spilling from anyone’s mouth.

Vic glanced at Henry with a knowing smirk as he brought menthol cigarette to his soft, plump lips, “Fucked raw in the ass huh?”

“It wasn’t an invitation you fucking twink,” Henry snorted, pushing Vic aside as he held Y/N close and protectively, “If Patrick tries to fuck with you, I got your back.”

“As if I need protecting,” Y/N scoffed, suddenly offended and frustrated that Henry began to take on the role of big brother, but more annoyed that he began treating her like she couldn’t take care of herself. She had proved it many times that she could, even after her fight with Patrick when they caught themselves in the middle of another brawl with yet another band.

He chuckled, sensing her annoyance and pulling in her in for a headlock, “You’ll be happy to have me watching your back when Patrick decides to make a move on you.”

Patrick suddenly took a turn as he disappeared into a bar, Y/N looked up at the lettering sighed, “If you say so, Henry.”

“I guess we’re here,” Belch said, pushing past Y/N and Henry as he followed after Patrick. Vic trailed close behind him, followed by Y/N and Henry bringing up the rear.

Y/N glanced around the bar, observing the long shelves of liquor and beer, her eyes trailing towards Patrick, who was sitting at a stool at the bar, ordering a bottle of vodka. Henry leaned down towards her, whispering softly in her ear, “Stay close, I don’t want another fight breaking out between the two of you before we have to play our set.”

“Sure,  _dad_ ,” she mumbled, earning her a glare from Henry and a smack on her ass. He led her towards the bar, intentionally sitting between her and Patrick. She caught a glimpse of his grey green eyes locking on her through the small mirror next to the cash register, but she pretended to remain indifferent to him as he and Henry began going on about their next album.

Y/N tuned out as soon as they mentioned it, her eyes trailing over to the other patrons in the bar, taking notice of Vic and Belch at the pool table with a couple of other guys and a large gathering of females. Once they took notice of Patrick and Henry, half of the group ditched the boys and began to crowd around Henry and Pat, much Y/N’s annoyance.

The groupies kept their distance from Henry, however, eyeing Y/N carefully in fear of what she would do. Henry rolled his eyes and nudged her, “Can you get lost for a minute? You’re scaring the bitches.”

Y/N grunted as she rolled her eyes, calling out to the women as she swiped her beer from bar counter and stalked off, “He’s all yours ladies.”

She smirked as she made her way towards Vic and Belch, who welcomed her with open arms, “You up for a game of pool?”

“Maybe later,” she answered, her attention falling on the group of men beside Vic and Belch.

Vic started as he held the pool cue in his hands, chalking it up, “Oh, Y/N, these are the guys from Death’s Design, this is the second tour we’ve done together, right?” he paused, looking toward Belch, who nodded as he harshly took his shot, making a striped ball into a pocket as Vic continued pointing towards the members, “Anyways, that’s Edward, Ollie, Linus, Will and Leo.”

Y/N smiled as warmly as she could at each of them while shaking their hands, taking in their appearances and matching their names to their faces.

“Heard a lot about you,” the tall, dark skinned vocalist, Edward, said; his dark, deep chocolate eyes were gentle as he continued and Y/N felt herself get hot as his smile spread across his chiseled cheeks, “You’re a pretty good guitarist—”

“Good? She’s fucking  _great_ ,” another member of Death’s Design, Leo, said with feigned outrage. Y/N furrowed her brows as the slightly shorter fair skinned man with a minor beard and wild hair underneath a backwards facing snapback leaned on Edwards shoulder, eyeing her in wonder. He wore a black jacket over a white t-shirt with spades printed on the front paired with black skinny jeans that were torn at the knees. He gently pushed Edward aside, earning him an eye roll as he continued to speak while Edward rejoined the group around the pool table, “I saw you play in New York and all I could think was, ‘ _Holy shit, those guys finally got someone who is just as good as that crazy son of a bitch, Patrick_.’”

“The previous ones were good too,” Y/N said, noticing the British accent in his voice.

Leo scoffed, furrowing his brows, “They were all a bunch of idiots, half of them always fucked up during their sets… but  _you_ , you’ve got talent.”

Y/N smiled at Leo, taking a seat on a stool near a tall table, lighting a cigarette as she did so, “You’re a guitarist too, right?”

Leo tilted his head, taking a seat on the empty stool across from her, taking a large gulp of his beer, “You know about us?”

“I’ve listened to some of your music before, very well crafted and structured,” she complimented, earning her a smug grin from Leo.

“Hearing that from a member of Mind Failure is the ultimate praise, can you say it again, for my camera this time?” he teased, jokingly pulling out his phone. He placed his phone on the table, his deep brown eyes locking with Y/N’s. She suddenly felt the urge between her legs and she silently cursed Henry for putting notions of fucking in her head, because all she could think about was riding Leo’s cock that she almost didn’t hear him as he asked, “You planning on sticking around?”

“I plan to,” Y/N answered, letting her stare fall on Patrick, who was now making out with a woman that sat on his lap while Henry had his arms around two other women.

Leo followed her gaze, eyeing him while Y/N turned and continued to take a drag from her cigarette, followed by a long chug of her beer, “You know, people are saying that you and Henry are an item.”

Y/N nearly choked on her beer as she tried to contain her laughter, “What? No, no. We’re just friends.”

Leo shyly smiled, finishing up his beer as he crossed his arms over the table and leaned slightly in, “So, if I asked you out on a date before our set, I won’t have to worry about Henry Bowers coming after me later?”

Y/N smirked confidently at Leo, “If you asked me out on a date, you wouldn’t have to worry about anyone coming after you, except maybe me.”

His eyes widened at her implication, but he shrugged it off, chuckling as he got to his feet and held his hand out to her, “Maybe I’ll hold you to that.”

She followed Leo as he led her out of the bar, aware of Henry’s angry eyes on her. She shrugged, recalling that not minutes earlier, Henry was the one suggesting that she get laid. She didn’t know what kind of person Leo was, but if he was down to fuck then she wasn’t going to pass it up. She could limit herself. She was sure she could. She had done it before, she could do it again.

Her gaze fell from Henry and over to the shaggy haired man that was staring at her hand snugged up in Leo’s with disdain. His glare fell from her hand as he turned, pushing the groupie that was on his lap away from him. Y/N tilted her head in confusion, but at the moment, she didn’t give a damn about Patrick Hockstetter’s mood swings. Right now, all that mattered was the warmth that Leo’s hand provided her, even if it was only momentarily.

 

* * *

 

Y/N’s date with Leo went surprisingly well. It had been awhile since she had been on a date, even if it was a spur of the moment date and they spent it walking around shops in the galleria, shopping and fitting on ridiculous looking outfits that ended with them at a local pizza shop in the food court, rushing to be at the venue in time for Death’s Design’s set.

She admitted to herself that she rather enjoyed Leo’s company, and that time away with him alone was just what she needed to get her mind clear of Patrick Hockstetter, who had become a constant plague in her thoughts. Especially after what Vic said, and after witnessing the glare he shot her way as she was leaving the bar with Leo. It made her wonder if he really did want her, or if maybe Henry was right and he was still intent on hurting her.

Either way, the spontaneous date with Leo kept her mind from going into overdrive as she focused on nothing but him, and he focused on her only. As Leo went off to prepare for his set, Y/N climbed into the tour bus with a big, stupid smile plastered across her face.

Belch was the first one to notice, smiling as he took a large bite out of his burger, “Hey there, girly. How was your date?”

“It was nice,” she answered, gently closing the bus door behind her as she made her way to the restroom, “He’s a nice guy.”

Belch shot her a toothy grin, dropping pieces of lettuce and tomato on the ground, “He has a huge crush on you. He couldn’t stop talking about you before you got to the pool table, dude was practically fangirling when you shook his hand.”

“He wasn’t fangirling around me,” Y/N said, twisting the door knob and shouting when she spotted Patrick’s naked figure standing in the center of the restroom, “Oh fuck! Sorry!”

“You can watch,  _shug_ , I don’t mind,” Patrick grinned as Y/N slammed the door. Her eyes met Belch’s as she exhaled, trying to push the image of Patrick’s cock out of her mind, “Why didn’t you tell me he was in there?”

“I didn’t know you were going in there,” Belch shrugged, strangely nonchalant about the whole situation. He leaned against the wall, beside Y/N as she waited for Patrick to finish up in the restroom, “Where did you guys go?”

Y/N smiled as she thought about her day with Leo, leaning her head against the wall dreamily, she answered, “We went shopping, had some lunch, had a walk.”

“Sounds gay,” Belch teased, lightly nudging Y/N, “Someone’s got a crush.”

Y/N smirked shyly, “Like I said, he’s a nice guy. Different than the assholes I’m used to dating.”

The door to the restroom suddenly burst open and Patrick stood at the entrance of the restroom, steam escaping the small area as he eyed Y/N wearing nothing but black skinny jeans. She tried to avoid staring too long at his finely toned tattooed stomach, only meeting his gaze when he stood over her, droplets of his damp hair falling on her shoulder,  “Donovan, huh?”

“Who?”

Patrick rolled his eyes as he pulled a black t-shirt down over his torso covering his artwork of a body. Images of his cock flooded Y/N’s mind as he closed the small gap between them, staring her down while his breath was hot on her face, “You like a guy and you don’t even know his last name?”

“It’s none of your business,  _Patsy_ ,” Y/N spat, pushing him aside as she entered the restroom and slammed the door shut behind her. She exhaled heavily, wiping down the steam on the mirror and gazing at her reflection, the bruises from her fight with Patrick were near gone, it was almost as if the fight never took place. But she knew better than to try and fool herself into thinking that it hadn’t happened, the weeks of aches and pains on her body were a constant reminder of what an asshole he was.

She unzipped her pants and sat on the toilet, scrolling through her phone to distract herself. She furrowed her brows upon stumbling on a website and scoffed, “What the fuck?”

Her eyes skimmed through the article and photos of her and Patrick on stage, with users theorizing that they were secretly dating, or indicating that they would date at one point.

 _Fuck no_ , she thought to herself, scowling as she read further and saw photos of Patrick staring at her on stage. The look in his eyes was just as Vic described it earlier, it was as if he was hungry for her, his tongue trailing over his lips as he gazed at her,  _there’s no way_.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the door burst open and Henry came barging in, “Hey, Y/N, what about this girl?”

“Fucking hell! Henry—”

“I don’t care if you’re taking a shit, Y/N, just  _look_  at this girl,” he said, tilting his phone so Y/N could get a glimpse of the woman on the screen, “She’s fucking smoking hot, isn’t she? I think I’m gonna fuck her tonight. I already DMed her and she’s down to party.”

“Great,” Y/N replied with a hint of sarcasm, eyeing Henry as she covered her privates with the dirty, damp towel that laid strewn on the floor.

“Yeah I know, she even sent me some nudes— I mean, look at those fucking knockers, I can’t wait to titty fuck the shit out of her—”

“Henry, I’m in the middle of something right now,” Y/N groaned, wanting the mullet haired sandy blonde to get the hell out of the restroom.

“Yeah yeah,” he said, shrugging her blatant embarrassment off as he tucked his phone in his pocket, “What’s up with you and Leo?”

“Really Henry?  _Now_?”

Henry furrowed his brows, glancing around the restroom as if it was just as good as any other room to talk in, “I’m asking you, aren’t I? You gonna fuck him?”

“For fuck’s sake Henry, get the fuck  _out_!”

“Alright alright, I’ll leave you to wrestle the fuck out of the shit monster, but I expect you to tell me about that fucking cunt Leo later,” he demanded, pointing at her as he threw the door wide open.

Y/N tossed the towel at him, and he ducked, barely avoiding it as he cackled at her irritation, “Get the fuck out of here you fucking gossip queen!”

Henry slammed the door shut, leaving Y/N alone as she finished up and washed her hands, _fucking assholes are so inconsiderate_.

She gathered her belongings, freshening herself up for their set which was going to start soon, carefully applying a fresh layer of makeup as the boys shuffled in and out of the restroom, fighting her over the mirror and ignoring Belch as he watched in the tiny hall, “You guys are fucking idiots, I don’t know why you bother if you’re just gonna sweat all that shit off anyways.”

“ _Some_  of us like to look good,” Vic snapped, eyeing Belch up and down, scowling at his choice of wardrobe which consisted of a sleeveless flannel shirt over an Anthrax cut off and cutoff jeans.

“Whatever,” Belch said, crossing his arms as he pushed himself off the wall, “I’ll see you guys on stage.”

“Bye, bitch,” Vic called out as he carefully applied a layer of pink eyeshadow on his upper eyelid, and biting his lip in satisfaction, “I look fucking good, and you, well you’re not me but you’ll do.”

“Fuck off,” Y/N retorted, shaking out her hair as she took a glance at her outfit of choice, a pair of torn jean shorts and the new t-shirt that Leo bought for her earlier with a day of the dead skeleton print on the front.

Vic eyed the t-shirt knowingly as he combed his almost silver blonde hair into perfection. If there was anything he wanted to say, he didn’t, instead sighing as he chose to ignore her choice of wardrobe, “So, there’s a reporter that wants to speak to us before our set. Make sure to make it to this one.”

Y/N scowled in annoyance, she had made it a habit since ditching the first interview to intentionally not be present at any interviews, simply because she wanted to avoid as much contact with Patrick as humanly possible, “I don’t want to.”

“It’s part of the deal, babe, do the interview. It’s not gonna fucking kill you to talk to someone about your integration into the band; besides, Henry and Pat are less likely to pull bullshit if Henry is more concerned with keeping you away from Patrick,” Vic said, placing the comb in his hand on the small counter and adjusting a few fly away hairs on his perfectly combed hair.

“When?” she asked, exasperated.

“I’ll text you when,” he answered, straightening up his outfit which consisted of-  _surprise_ \- more leather. Y/N swore the guy was intentionally trying to look like a dominatrix on stage, but, Vic pulled guys and girls left and right. If anyone was getting laid the most out of all the guys in Mind Failure, it was definitely Vic. Although, he didn’t flaunt it around the way Henry or Patrick did; preferring to keep his sexual escapades to himself, “In the meantime, why don’t you go and watch your ‘ _friend_ ’ play his set? I’m sure he would  _love_  to see you side stage.”

“Fuck off, Vic,” Y/N said as she exited the restroom in a huff, although it was only because she didn’t want Vic to see her obvious giddiness at the mention of Leo’s name.

She grabbed a bottle of beer from the mini fridge, taking a sip as she lit a cigarette and exited the bus, ignoring Henry and Patrick as they were surrounded by yet another crowd of female fans. Once she entered the building the building he sounds of Death’s Design’s music rang in her ears as she avoided crowds of roadies shuffling about backstage. She nodded her head along to the music, leaning against the wall as she stood side stage, watching Leo Donovan’s hands handle his guitar with precision and control.

His gaze met hers momentarily, and he grinned at her presence, quickly waving at her before he turned his attention back to entertaining the cheering fans.

“The guy’s a fucking tool,” a nasally voice said from behind her.

“The same could be said about you, Hockstetter,” she snapped, adamant that he wasn’t going to ruin her night of watching Leo play his set.

“I am,” he agreed, “But I don’t deny it. That fucker would have you eating out of the palm of his—”

“What the hell do you want?” Y/N asked, making the annoyance clear in her voice.

“Vic wanted me to get you, for the interview,” Patrick answered smugly, standing beside her as he crossed his arms, his eyes on Leo.

“Vic said he would text me when it was time,” Y/N retorted, checking her pockets as she searched for her phone.

“Kinda hard to read a text if you don’t have your phone on you, princess,” he replied smarmily as he pulled out her phone from his tight jeans, swiping the cracked screen as he headed for the gallery, “I wonder if you got nudes in here.”

“Hockstetter, you fucker!”

Y/N jumped over to him, trying desperately to pull her phone from his greasy fingers. He cackled as his tall frame quickly moved and scanned her gallery, the smile from his face falling as he came across a photo of Leo planting a kiss on her cheek, “You move fast, don’t you?”

“Give me my phone, Hockstetter,” she ordered, holding her hand out.

Patrick scoffed, holding out her phone. She reached for it and he quickly swiped it back, “Did you fuck him?”

“Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but no; so, give me my fucking phone.  _Now_ ,” she ordered, with more force this time.

Patrick gripped her phone tight in his hand, the photo of Leo and her still on the screen as Henry stomped up beside him, “What’s going on here, Patsy?”

“Nothing,” Patrick answered, a sly grin spreading across his cheeks, “Just having a little fun with your  _shug_ , that’s all.”

“Fun’s over, give her the fucking phone and get your ass to that interview, now,” Henry demanded. Patrick smirked, lighting a cigarette as he handed Y/N her phone, his eyes lingered on her as he nodded at her and made his way towards the backdoor. Henry gazed at Y/N as she exited the gallery app on her phone, and his stare went from her to Leo, who was now watching with interested eyes as Edward, the vocalist, interacted with the crowd, “Don’t wander off alone, Y/N. We’ve talked about this.”

“And I told you, I can handle myself,” Y/N huffed, frustrated at Patrick and now concerned as she turned and met Leo’s worried gaze.

“Sure, you can,” he chuckled, lighting a joint and taking a long drag, “Here shug, looks like you need to chill the fuck out.”

“I’m calm!” she shouted, earning a few glances from the roadies backstage.

Henry bit his lips as he tried to suppress a laugh, his brows raising in amusement, “Are you?”

“No,” she reacted in defeat, taking the joint from his fingers and bringing it to her lips.

“Better?” Henry asked, lightly punching her shoulder playfully as she nodded, “Good, let’s get to this fucking interview before Vic tears us both a new asshole. I’m not in the mood to hear his shit tonight, not when everything’s been going so well. Turns out I got like three chicks that are down to fuck and I am not going to let Vic fuck it up—”

His voice was a distant blur as Y/N waved goodbye to Leo, who gave her a nod and a half grin in response. She followed Henry as he continued to go on about the girls he lined up for tonight, showing her the risqué photos that they sent to him willingly, nodding and smiling at the right moments until they finally exited the building and joined the rest of Mind Failure as they were getting ready for the camera. Patrick was rolling his eyes while Vic lectured him to be on his best behavior. Belch seemed to be getting quite chummy with the reporter, who happened to be a very cute, short woman with a curvy figure and long brown hair that trailed down to the small of her back. Upon getting closer, Y/N caught phrases from their conversation as Belch talked animatedly about his favorite horror films and his love of 80s music, drawing the reporter in as she found a kindred spirit in Belch.

“Finally,” Vic started, “Next time take your fucking phone with you, Y/N—”

“Why the hell did you even send Hockstetter to get her?” Henry interrupted, annoyed that Vic didn’t understand the urgency of keeping him away from Y/N.

“You were nowhere to be found and Belch has been chatting up the reporter since he met her; I swear to god it’s like he’s never met a woman before,” Vic exhaled in frustration, catching the reporter’s and Belch’s attention.

“Guys, this is Cora; she’s going to be handling the interview,” he said, a wide grin on his face.

Cora, who eyed them all one by one with blue green eyes through gold rimmed glasses, smiled warmly at them, with the exception of Patrick. She glanced at him warily, as if on edge. No doubt, she was aware of the lanky fucker’s reputation with reporters, “Are you guys ready?”

“Get this started, babe, and don’t worry,” Belch said, pausing as he glanced at Patrick and Henry, “They’ll behave themselves.”

As the camera started rolling, Y/N was suddenly blinded by the bright white light emanating from the camera. She pushed her abnormally large mirrored aviator sunglasses over her eyes, suddenly feeling the calm serenity that the joint she smoked a few moments earlier kick in.

She vaguely paid any mind to the reporter, not even bothering to keep up with the conversation as she was lost in her own thoughts of Leo, and suddenly, Patrick. Her eyes trailed over to the lanky shaggy haired douchebag, locking her gaze on him. She was glad to have had her sunglasses on because this time, she was staring directly at him, allowing herself to indulge in the masterpiece that was Patrick Hockstetter.

 _How can someone so pretty be such a dick?_  she asked herself, thinking of the shit that Patrick had put her through in just a matter of days, and how he was now being semi aggressive towards her for going on one date with Leo.

She sighed to herself as she continued to gaze dreamily at Patrick, reminding herself,  _the pretty ones are usually the biggest assholes._

Y/N was pulled out of her daze as Henry mentioned her name. She turned her gaze to him, watching as he spoke into the microphone, aware that now the interview was underway and he was explaining the fight that went down in the bar a few weeks before.

“Is that true, Y/N?”

She nodded dumbly as she answered the question that was now directed at her, “Yeah, yeah.”

“Many of your fans think that you have integrated into the band perfectly, however it’s been pretty obvious that you and Patrick haven’t been getting along too well with reports that there was an altercation a few weeks back in a parking lot, and a few moments ago side stage, care to shed some light on that?”

Y/N chuckled at the reporter’s question. She glanced at Vic, who shook his head, his eyes begging her not to address it. She then met Patrick’s amused glare. He was smirking devilishly, waiting for her to make her next move. Y/N smiled as she answered, “Just a little friendly rivalry, nothing we can’t handle.”

“Witnesses say they saw you push him—”

“Well those witnesses can suck Vic’s cock,” she interrupted, leaving the reporter wide eyed in shock, “It’s no one’s business what happens when we step off that stage unless we make it their business, this is me not making it your business.”

“So, then, it’s true?”

“I never said it was.”

Cora smirked to herself, looking down at her index cards as she pursed her lips, “There’s also reports that the only reason you were invited into the band is because you have started a relationship with Henry.”

“For fuck’s sake—”

“And just earlier you were seen locking lips with Death’s Design’s guitarist, Leo Donovan.”

“The fuck is this; an interview about our music or a gossip segment?” Henry started, blatantly aggravated with the many rumors floating around about Y/N.

“Your fans would like to know what’s going on,” Cora said, “Many also think that there’s something going on with Patrick and Y/N; they’re suggesting that her involvement could be the undoing of Mind Failure.”

Patrick burst out in laughter, earning him a panicked look from Vic and a knowing smirk from Henry, “Is that a question the fans had? Or you?”

Cora furrowed her brows in confusion, “I don’t—”

“I get it, you’re jealous,” Patrick started, leaning towards the reporter as he inhaled her scent, “If you want some dick, all you gotta do is ask nicely. Hell, you don’t even gotta ask, I’ll just give it you right now. I haven’t had pussy all day and I’m  _aching_ to dump my load.”

“What the—”

The sound of equipment breaking suddenly rang loud in the air followed by Henry’s barking laugh as he stomped the broken camera on the ground with his boots. Patrick pulled Cora in and began to nuzzle into her neck, prompting her to shout in response.

“Patrick! Get the fuck off her!” Belch shouted, pulling him of Cora and tossing him towards the brick wall. Instantly, Cora pulled her cameraman away from Henry’s grasp, and took off running down the street as Belch chased after them, “Wait! Cora!”

“What the fuck Patrick? I told you to fucking behave!” Vic groaned in irritation, his cheeks red as he shouted at the top of his lungs, making the people outside stare at them in curiosity. Patrick simply shrugged, unbothered by Vic’s rage who turned his attention to Henry, “And you owe them a new fucking camera, Henry, or so help me I’ll fucking—”

“What? What the fuck are you gonna do?” Henry challenged, suddenly up in Vic’s face.

Vic exhaled deeply, both boys staring at each other and clenching their fists in anticipation. The tension was thick it could be cut with a knife, and Y/N stood in the background, unaware of what to do or how to react to the situation.

“Hey Y/N!” a voice shouted, prompting Y/N to furrow her brows as she searched the crowd for the person that called to her, smiling when she saw Leo making his way towards them, a cigarette hanging limply in his lips as he held a bottle of whiskey in his hands, “I just finished my set; I saw you side stage.”

“I couldn’t miss your show,” she flirted, smiling wider as she took the bottle that Leo offered, taking a tiny sip and returning it into his hands. She leaned towards him, pulling on the hem of his shirt flirtatiously, “I was impressed.”

“Yeah?” he smirked, pressing his forehead against hers, “It’s nothing compared to your skills.”

A sudden cough interrupted their flirty interaction, and she looked up to see Henry and Vic glancing their way with pleased looks on their faces. Patrick, on the other hand, stared straight ahead at the traffic on the street while he smoked a cigarette, a look of utter annoyance plastered across his features.

Henry leaned forward, snatching the bottle of whiskey from Leo’s hands, prompting Leo to roll his eyes in irritation, “Great gift. You have my blessing to continue, Donovan, but keep in mind, if you fuck with her, I’ll personally smash your fucking face into the pavement.”

“I’d expect nothing less from the guys of Mind Failure,” Leo responded, crossing his arms over his chest.

“We’ll let you have some private time, for all that’s worth, you have ten minutes,” Vic started, pulling Henry along with him, “If you fuck, don’t fuck her to the point where she can’t stand Leo, save that for after the show.”

Leo chuckled, amused as he pulled her in for a hug while Y/N scoffed in embarrassment, burying her face into Leo’s chest and covering her head with his denim vest, “ _Oh my god_.”

Henry and Vic guffawed in laughter, the previous tension that emanated from either of them was now gone as they threw an arm around each other. Henry’s laugh disappeared from his face as he glanced at Patrick, who was now staring daggers at Leo, “Let’s go, Patsy.”

Patrick glanced at Y/N momentarily, his grey green eyes burning into her as he continued to stare at her, refusing to look away. She furrowed her brows as she tried to decipher the look on his face, lowering the edges of Leo’s denim vest that she used to cover herself. But, before she could analyze the meaning of his stare, he turned his gaze to the traffic on the street once more, pursing his lips as he finished up his cigarette and tossed it on the ground, crushing it with a little too much force.

He swiftly stalked past Leo, bumping him roughly with his shoulder, prompting the curly haired guitarist to react, “What the fuck?”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you there,” Patrick said, feigning innocence. The tone of malice was clear in his voice as he smirked devilishly, making it obvious that he wasn’t really sorry.

Y/N grasped Leo’s denim vest as he prepared to move towards Patrick, aware that Patrick was only trying to provoke him into doing something. It was something she had fallen for, and while she liked to say she held her own while fighting him, something told her that Patrick was holding back during his fight with her. And he wouldn’t hold back in this case, that much was obvious when she caught a glimpse of Patrick reaching for something in his pocket, “Don’t, Leo. Patrick’s just being a dick because he hasn’t gotten laid today.”

Leo glanced at Y/N, but her eyes were fixed on the grey green gaze that locked on her. Henry, who was watching the interaction with amusement, finally decided to step in, “C’mon Hockstetter. There’s some groupies that wanna meet us.”

“I think I’ll stay here,” Patrick dicated, taking a small step towards Leo and Y/N, “I know you like to keep an eye on her Henry, I can keep an eye on her for you. I’ll let you know if he fucks her. Hell, I might even join.”

“What the fuck—” Leo started, but was immediately interrupted as Y/N did the only thing she thought to do; she hastily pressed her lips against Leo’s own and pulled him in closer to her, allowing her hands to grasp the fabric of his shirt. He was distracted enough to forget about wanting to fight Patrick as he planted his hands on the small of her back. She closed her eyes tightly, listening to the sound of retreating footsteps, only opening them once Leo pulled away, pressing his forehead against hers, “What was that all about?”

Y/N smiled, playing with the hemline of his black denim vest, “Watching you about to throw down got me hot, so I figured, fuck it.”

“You’re wild, you know that?” he whispered, the tip of his nose lightly grazing hers as his hands continued to rub the small of her back gently.

“I’ve been told,” she answered, smiling playfully as he chuckled, leaning in for another kiss. His lips pressed against hers once more, her tongue moved in motion with his, smoothly and gently. He smirked as his lips were pushed against hers, muttering delicately, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

Y/N grinned, slanting her head, “You don’t even know me.”

“I’d like to,” he responded, clasping his hands around hers.

“Are you asking me to be your girlfriend, Leo?” Y/N teased playfully, her brow lifting in amusement.

“I suppose so, I figure I might as well ask before someone else does.”

Y/N remained silent, biting her bottom lip as she thought about Leo’s offer. She liked him. She’d only known him for a total of about five hours, not counting the times she’d looked him up on google or Instagram. She had gotten into relationships with people she didn’t even know at all before, what would be so bad about this one?

Leo seemed like a nice guy, but the words that Patrick said about him rang deep in her mind as she considered her answer.

 _Why are you even taking Patrick’s opinion into consideration?_ She thought,  _the guy fucking hates you. He just wants to make you miserable._

Her eyes met Leo’s as she pulled his denim vest off of him and threw it over her shoulders. He wrinkled his brows in response, “What are you doing?”

“How else is everyone gonna know that I’m your girl unless I wear the denim vest you wore during your set?” Y/N asked, as if the answer should be apparent.

Leo smiled in response, pulling her in and planting another kiss on her lips, “Are you doing anything after your show?”

Y/N thought about it for a moment, all she was really going to do was sit on the couch the way she normally did with a gaggle of groupies surrounding her while she drank and smoked the night away, trying her best not to fall back into her old habits, “No, I’m not.”

“So, I’ll see you after?”

“Definitely,” she responded, smiling as she pressed another kiss on his lips, “I gotta go, meet me side stage?”

“Of course,” he scoffed, “I’ll be watching your whole show.”

Y/N tried to contain the heat that was rushing to her face as she ran off, rushing into the building to catch up with the boys that were all gathered together, prepping for the show. Vic was vocalizing as Henry plucked the thick strings of his bass guitar, nodding his head in rhythm with the song he was playing. Patrick stood leaning against an amp, strumming his guitar as he ignored Belch going off about his rude interaction with the reporter earlier, “You’d better fucking apologize to her.”

“Why?”

“Why?  _Why?!_  Because it was fucked up, Patrick! That’s  _why_!”

“I don’t see what the problem is; you’ve never had a problem with me doing that shit to other reporters,” Patrick paused from his strumming, his mouth dropping open and his eyes widening as the realization hit him, “Belch has a crush on the reporter.”

Belch scowled, not in the mood for Patrick’s teasing, “Apologize.”

“Hey, there she is!” Vic shouted upon noticing Y/N’s arrival, “That as quick, don’t tell me he’s a preemie.”

“We didn’t do anything, Vic,” Y/N responded as she took her guitar from a tech, picking it up and strumming it close to her ear, making sure it was properly tuned to the band’s standard tuning.

“I wouldn’t consider making out as not doing anything,” Henry pointed, throwing his arm over her. His eyes trailed down to her torso and his jaw dropped in shock, “Are you wearing his fucking vest?”

Y/N shrugged, smiling as he waited for an answer. Vic and Belch glanced at each other knowingly, “Holy shit dude, you don’t even know him and you’re  _dating_  him?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Well,” Vic started, scratching the back of his neck, “I mean typically when you start dating someone its better if you know them before you commit to a relationship with them.”

“Lay off of her, Vic, you haven’t been in a relationship with anyone since fucking high school,” Henry shot, rolling his eyes at Vic’s condescending tone, making the blonde look away shamefully, “I don’t like the fucker—"

“You don’t like anyone,” Y/N interrupted, strumming her guitar to the melody of Mind Failure’s songs.

“That’s beside the point,” he said, although he didn’t try to disagree with her statement, “But if that’s what you want then fucking go for it. I’ve seen Leo throw down; fucker can hold his own, and that’s fine for me.”

Henry slapped Y/N’s back, ushering her closer to the stage as Belch sneaked to his drum set that was waiting for him, filling the room with the beats of his drums. Henry readied himself to get on stage, pulling Y/N along with him as Patrick followed close behind, “You’d look better wearing my clothes, or none at all for that matter.”

Y/N’s brows knitted as she turned to glance at Patrick in shock. He smirked cunningly at her, motioning towards the stage as he began to play his guitar and stalk out ahead of her with Henry beside him, making the crowd go wild. He turned then, walking backwards to keep his gaze locked on her, the screaming fans were the last thing in his mind as he continued to glance lustily at her.

Vic gently nudged her forward, and she shook herself out of her daze, her fingers on the fretboard as she began to play the song at hand, running onto the stage followed by Vic who began to sing at the top of his lungs.

She was aware of the screaming fans pointing towards her, taking note of the denim vest she wore, aware that her wardrobe choice would be the talk of the gossip online. To her right, she took notice of Leo standing on the side of the stage, watching her and cheering her on, along with the guys of Death’s Design. He pulled out his phone and snapped a photo of her, she supposed he wanted to post it on his Instagram and show the world that she was wearing his clothes and she was dating him.

The thought made her heart flutter, and she smirked to herself as she played the song, thinking of how the night would end with her and Leo together.

To her left, however, Patrick slowly inched his way towards her. Henry was unaware of it, but once he reached her, he began to head bang next to her as he fingered the fretboard of his guitar, the sounds of his technical solo filling the room and making the crowd go wild as he tossed his pick into the crowd.

It was innocent enough, until the song ended and he tossed his guitar behind his back, allowing it to hang limply from its strap. His hands grasped the back of her head, grabbing her hair in a bunch as he roughly placed his lips on hers, gracing her with a sloppy wet kiss. The crowd went wild, and from her right, she could hear the guys of Death’s Design shouting, “No, Leo!”

Her peripherals caught a glimpse of Leo’s bandmates holding him back, the sight of Patrick kissing Y/N enraging him and making him want to retaliate by kicking Patrick’s ass.

Y/N, coming down from her shock, pushed him off; prompting him to grin devilishly as Henry pulled him away and shooed him to the other side of the stage. Patrick went without a fight, but as he stalked to the other side, he snatched the microphone from Vic, ignoring the protests of the blonde-haired vocalist. He turned then, his eyes fell on Y/N’s shocked glare, to Leo who stood side stage, fuming, as he spoke into the mic, “Don’t worry Leo, I was just testing her for you. She tastes fucking  _delicious_.”

Vic hurried towards Patrick, trying to take the mic from him as Patrick dodged him, “I wonder what she tastes like—”

“Alright, that was unexpected huh? I guess we’re all just kissing each other now!” Vic said, trying to diffuse the tension onstage that was being eaten up by the crowd. He quickly leaned in and locked his lips on Patrick’s. If he was shocked, he didn’t show it as he kissed the blonde-haired vocalist back without a hitch.

Vic pulled away, whispering something inaudible to Patrick before Belch finally came out of his own shock and began to drum the beat to another song. From the corner of her eye, she could see Patrick smiling at Y/N as he glanced at Leo, still enraged.

She tried her best to ignore him and focus on Leo instead, but the whole time on stage, all she could think about was Patrick’s lips locked on hers, and the sense of need and urgency in that one kiss. But whether or not he wanted her was still a question, because Patrick was also known for being a manipulative asshole. And if he wanted to continue to fuck with her, it would make sense if he went after a blossoming relationship that she wanted to work instead of attacking her directly.

However, there was still a nagging feeling that maybe he wasn’t trying to fuck with her and that the kiss was as sincere as Patrick was going to get about his feelings towards her.

 

* * *

 

It had been hours since the incident onstage. After the show, Leo quickly led Y/N to a small, quiet area next to the venue, ignoring Henry and Patrick’s shouts. And for hours, she tried to calm Leo from doing anything stupid, knowing full well that if he decided to react, it would be another Black Sunday incident all over again. And Y/N did not want to see Leo laying on the floor with his head losing gallons of blood because Patrick hit him in the head with his guitar.

She began to feel irritated after hours of sitting on a metal bench, without a joint or beer to soothe her nerves. The Texas heat did little to soothe her irritation as her sweat built up on her skin. But, she knew that it was better to stay with Leo to keep him from doing something stupid, and because at the end of the day, she genuinely did like him. So, she Y/N allowed him to pace in front of her as he tried to calm himself, a cigarette in his fingers, as he finished his rant, ending with a simple sentence, “I should kick his fucking ass.”

“That’s what he wants, Leo,” Y/N explained as gently as she possibly could, the feeling of being kind in a relationship was alien to her as she tried to figure out what to say next. Impulsively, she said the first thing that came to mind, “C’mon, just forget about it.”

“Forget about it?” he repeated, outraged that she suggested it. Y/N sighed, immediately regretting her words.

“We have literally only been dating for like three hours dude, chill. It’s not a big deal, he does that all the time,” she scoffed. Once she caught his glare, she realized that she should have chosen her words carefully.

“And you just  _let_  him? Is that what you do? You let the fuckers in your band treat you their fucking  _toy_?” he spat, livid at the idea.

Y/N’s eyes widened as she stood from her seat on the bench, the hot humid Texas air blowing lightly in her hair, “For your sake, I’m going to assume you didn’t mean that.”

“And if I did?” he challenged, standing straight as he exhaled a cloud of smoke from his nostrils.

Y/N scoffed, turning to walk away from him, frustrated with herself for thinking that maybe she could have a relationship with this guy, this guy that she didn’t even fucking know. Maybe Vic was right. Maybe Patrick was right, as Leo was starting to sound more and more like a tool. Then again, she wasn’t exactly helping with her careless responses and her stupidity at not thinking before she spoke.

“Hey, look,” Leo started, his hand pulling on her arm and making her tense, “I’m sorry. I  _know_  it wasn’t your fault, I’m just—I’m just fucking pissed off.”

She closed her eyes tightly, reminding herself that Leo wasn’t her ex and that he wouldn’t hurt her. Of course, how would she know that? She didn’t even know him.

Her breathing was heavy and harsh as she felt the tendrils of anger begin to fill her with every second that passed as his hand gripped her arm. She pulled out a cigarette with her free hand, quickly lighting it as she spoke through clenched teeth, “Leo, please let me go.”

Leo stared down at his hand, aware that he was holding her with too much force as he released his hold on her, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was—”

“It’s alright,” she whispered, allowing the nicotine to calm her nerves. She scratched the bridge of her nose as she turned and explained, “Patrick does shit like that to get reactions out of people. I thought you would know that by now since you’ve toured with them.”

“I know the others, I don’t know  _him_. He’s always kept to himself, all I know is he’s a great guitar player… and a fucking asshole,” Leo responded, fury clear in his voice. He sighed, allowing his light brown eyes to soften as his gaze fell on Y/N. He removed his cap, running a hand through his hair as he asked in a hushed voice, “You don’t have feelings for him, do you?”

She groaned loudly, rolling her eyes and letting her head fall back as she took a drag from her cigarette, thinking of what the reporter mentioned earlier, as well as the fan sites. Everyone seemed to think that she and Patrick were somehow attracted to each other. She felt an intrigue towards him, but that didn’t mean she was going to be with him, regardless of what everyone had to say about it.

“No,” she answered.

That seemed to be enough for Leo, as he tossed his cigarette butt aside and nodded. She stood still, awkwardly gazing about as she waited for him to make a move or tell her to fuck off. Leo, however, held his arms out, asking in the sweetest, childlike voice she had ever heard a grown man speak in, “Can I have a hug?”

Y/N chuckled, throwing her half-smoked cigarette on the ground as she jumped on him, allowing her legs to wrap around his torso while she planted kisses all along his cheeks and neck. He reciprocated the gesture as he placed sweet, wet kisses along her cheeks, whispering in her ear, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say those things to you. I’m just—the idea that they don’t respect you doesn’t sit well with me.”

She breathed in his scent, inhaling deeply as she allowed his arms to squeeze her tightly, feeling a warm feeling spread through her at the thought of not being alone, “It’s ok. And I’m sorry that Patrick is an asshole.”

“You don’t have to apologize for him, Y/N,” he scoffed, gently setting her down on her feet, “I know  _he_  probably won’t apologize, I don’t expect him to. But if he does something like that again, I won’t let the guys hold me back; I’ll fucking run on stage and beat the living shit out of him.”

Y/N smiled, planting a gentle kiss on his lips as she ran her hands through his messy, curly hair, “Anger turns me on.”

“Does it?” he asked, chuckling as Y/N’s hands trailed from his hair down to his chest and then his thighs, her fingers sneakily trying to make their way into his jeans as she felt the pain in her pussy begin to intensify. She was aching for sex. It had been so long and he had tried to remain in control with all the fucking going on around her, but now she didn’t have to. Leo inhaled deeply as she stroked the bulge in his jeans, “Wait, wait.”

“What?” she groaned, breathless.

“We should wait,” he breathed, prompting Y/N to stop in her tracks and stare at him in confusion.  _What kind of man said no to sex?_

“Why?” she asked, her brows still furrowed in bewilderment.

Leo groaned loudly, running a hand through his hair as he began to explain, “I just—I just don’t want you to think that this is the only reason I’m with you.”

“I don’t,” Y/N quickly said, pressing a rough kiss on his lips.

He kissed her back, but his hands still held her arms at bay, “I know, but, you said so yourself. We’ve only been dating for a few hours.”

Y/N silently cursed herself for being an idiot and saying something that meant she wasn’t going to get laid, but she listened as Leo continued, “I don’t want to fuck this up by—I don’t want you to think I don’t want to, because I do—I mean—fuck.”

He couldn’t finish his sentence so Y/N swallowed her pride and nodded, “We can wait, Leo. I’ll just buy a vibrator or something.”

“Wait,  _what_?”

“Nothing,” she quickly said, taking Leo’s hands in hers and leaning into his chest as he held her close.

He chuckled quietly, planting a soft kiss on her head, “C’mon, I’ll walk you back to your tour bus. Henry’s probably gonna skin me alive for keeping you out late.”

“Probably,” she agreed, pulling her phone out of her pocket and frowning at all the text messages Henry sent her through the group chat. It was a chat they established early on in their teenage years to keep tabs on each other in case something happened. It was only when Y/N joined the band that it became really active, especially after Henry became concerned with leaving Y/N alone.

 **Henry B. 3:47 AM:**  Where r u?

 **Henry B. 3:48 AM:**  r u arlight?

 **Henry B. 3:49 AM:**  r u alive?

 **Henry B. 3:49 AM:**  If leo did anything to u Ill cut his fucking dick off n feed it to vic

 **Vic 3:50 AM** : I will not eat his dick.

 **Henry B. 3:50 AM:**  u will, I know how much u like dick

 **Vic 3:51 AM:**  For a straight dude, you talk about dick alot.. 

 **Henry B. 3:52 AM:**  yea cus Y/N needs to know how fucking serious I am

 **Belch 3:52 AM:**  Guys, quit it, im trying to sleep.

 **Henry B. 3:53 AM:**  Fuckig lightweight

 **Mastermind 3:53 AM:**  Bitches

 **Henry B. 3:54 AM:** Fuck off Hockstetter

 **Mastermind 3:54 AM:**  y/n’s not answering cause shes out sucking dick

 **Mastermind 3:54 AM:**  too bad its not mine :/

 **Henry B. 3:56 AM:**  fuck u Hockstetter, ur the reason y she fuckin walked off iwht leo n now shes probly dead in a ditch sumwhere

 **Mastermind 3:57 AM:**  if you find her body lemme get to it first, I’ll be damned if I don’t get to tap that at least once

 **Y/N 4:21 AM:**  …. Wtf is wrong with you??

 **Y/N 4:21 AM:**  I’m still fucking alive and I’m on my way back, fucking necrophiliac.

 **Mastermind 4:22 AM:**  I’ll see you soon doll.

 **Y/N 4:22 AM:**  Fuck you.

 **Mastermind 4:22 AM:**  After I’m done with this bitch, I got enough fuck left in me for you. 

Y/N scoffed as she read the last message, she locked her phone and stuffed it into her pocket in a huff, choosing to ignore Patrick’s message as she allowed Leo to cradle her in his arms while he walked her back in the silence of the night.

Leo provided Y/N with small talk about his life; tidbits that she learned from Google, such as that he was from the UK and had been playing guitar as long as she had, “What about you? There’s not much about you I can learn from Google.”

“You’ve googled me?” she asked in amusement.

Leo bit his lip as he stammered for an answer, awkwardly tugging on his ear when he finally came up with a response, “I—uh, maybe once. Or twice.”

Y/N chuckled, pressing a sweet kiss on his cheek, “I’m from everywhere, drifted around until I ended up in L.A. and hooked up with Mind Failure.”

“Ah,” he said, “But you still haven’t answered my question; where are you from?”

She sighed deeply, her past wasn’t something she wanted to get into right now. She barely managed to open up to Henry, giving him small details of her life every now and then. Opening up completely, as much as she wanted to, wasn’t something she was ready for just yet.

“I’ll tell you when we’ve been together for six months, yeah?”

“That long just to find out where you’re from?” Leo asked, a hint of playfulness in his tone of voice.

“The mystery makes me more enticing, it’ll ensure that you stay around that long,” she said.

The rest of the walk was silent as Leo mulled over what she said. She hadn’t meant to come off as an asshole, or offer him an ultimatum the way she did. She hadn’t even realized she’d done it until after the words were out of her mouth.

Leo paused in front of Mind Failure’s tour bus, watching her as he tucked his hands inside of his pockets, “So, here we are.”

“Here we are,” she agreed, smirking softly. She sighed as she started, “Hey, listen, I’m sorry about what I said—about needing to ensure you stayed, I didn’t mean to make it sound like an ultimatum or some shit. I was just fucking—I’m a fucking idiot, I’m sorry.”

Leo smiled tenderly at her, his eyes twinkling as he gazed at her and pulled gently at his denim vest that she wore, “It looks good on you.”

He grabbed the front of the vest, softly pulling her in as he pressed his lips against hers, exhaling deeply as his hands trailed down to the small of her back. Once he pulled away, reluctantly, he pressed his forehead against hers, whispering gently to her, “I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

His words sent shivers down Y/N’s spine, and she tried her best to contain her smile as she wished Leo a goodnight. He planted one last kiss on her cheek, wishing her a goodnight as well as he turned to walk down the street, lighting a cigarette on the way to his own tour bus.

“That was the most revolting thing I’ve ever seen,” Patrick’s nasally voice called. She turned, and upon noticing that he was nowhere to be found, her eyes flew up to see him standing tall on top of the tour bus, his guitar hanging limply behind him from the leather black strap.

Y/N rolled her eyes in annoyance, “Nobody told you to watch.”

“True,” he admitted, taking a drag from his joint, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. His grey green eyes weren’t malicious, if anything, they seemed… curious, again, “I’ve gotta say  _shug_ , you got some pretty low standards.”

“There’s always worse,” she retorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Why don’t you get lower then?” he smirked, a sly grin spreading across his smooth facial features.

“I thought you were fucking someone else,” Y/N pointed out, lighting her own cigarette, exhaling deeply as she tried her best not to let him try her patience.

“Jealous princess? I swear, one sloppy kiss and you’re already attached.”

“Please, there’s nothing to be jealous of. And that was a fucked-up thing for you to do, you knew Leo was going to be watching so you just fucking kissed me like the asshole you are,” she accused.

“Was he pissed? I bet he was,” Patrick chuckled, taking a seat on the hard surface, his legs dangling over the edge as he pulled his guitar on his lap, playing a new song that he was penning, “Besides, you weren’t complaining when I was doing it. If I recall, you even used tongue.”

“Ha! Are you that fucking delusional, Hockstetter?”

“It’s been implied.”

“Never again,  _Patsy_ , or I’ll fuck you up even worse than that time in the parking lot,” she threatened.

Patrick smirked, his fingers curling over the fretboard, “Don’t tempt me with a good time, princess. Thinking about it gets me hard.”

“Ugh,” she groaned, pulling the door open and pausing as she heard Patrick singing. And just like last time, he sang the piece that she added to his song. She paused, glancing up at him and meeting his gaze once more, “What are you doing?”

Patrick continued singing, ignoring her question as he continued to glance at her, the lyrics coming naturally to him as he recalled them all. He didn’t even need to look at the piece of paper beside him; his mind was like a sponge, just absorbing everything and it made Y/N realize why he was the mind behind the music.

He paused suddenly, still glancing at her, “You might be a fucking pain in the ass, but, I’ll give credit where it’s due. You know your words.”

Y/N furrowed her brows, puzzled at his compliment, “Thank you?”

“Yeah,” Patrick said, his eyes still on her. For a moment, just a brief moment, she thought she saw something in him as his gaze locked on hers. She thought she could see tenderness towards her. Where there was normally emptiness and at times, a crazed demented person whose mind was plagued with darkness, there was now an actual human being gazing down at her with a look she had never seen before. It was like… like he couldn’t believe she was real. In an instant, it was gone as he looked away, taking a hit of his joint and a swig of liquor from his bottle of vodka, “You should get inside, princess, Henry isn’t around to protect you from me.”

Still reeling from her brief interaction with Patrick, Y/N did as she was told without question, stepping inside the tour bus and shutting the door behind her as she took a drag from her cigarette. Her brows crinkled as she glanced at the mess on the floor, sighing heavily at Henry’s naked figure sprawled out on the floor beside three other naked women. She smiled to herself upon noticing Vic sprawled on the couch, a guy and girl on either side of him, all naked as well.

Yawning, she made her way towards her bunk, amazed that the boys didn’t leave too much of a mess. Once she glanced into Belch’s bunk, she realized why. Snuggled beside the husky man, was the reporter who did the interview earlier, Cora.

Huh, he probably cleaned up for her, she thought, lazily pushing off her boots and pulling off her shorts, tossing them carelessly near the door as she made her way to the drawers. She scavenged through her assigned drawer, frustrated that it was dark until she pulled out a pair of old purple plaid pajama pants, sighing blissfully as she yanked them on and grabbed a few makeup wipes from her drawer.

She kicked her way towards her bunk, pulling herself up in exhaustion as she continued to wipe her makeup off, tossing the wipes on the ground, I’ll clean them up tomorrow.

Her phone vibrated violently as she pulled it out, checking her notifications and smiling when she noticed that Leo tagged her in a multitude of photos from the day. A few were from their date they had earlier, with the sweetest captions underneath. There was a stunning one that he took of her on stage, the lighting on her back making it clear that she wore Leo’s piece of clothing while the front of her body was covered in shadow. She immediately typed in a quick comment, choosing to upload her own photo with Leo, leaving the caption blank save for a heart emoji.

She continued to scroll through Instagram for a few more minutes, pausing when her eyes caught a glimpse of the photo on her screen. She scrolled back up, her eyes widening upon seeing the photo of Patrick planting a kiss on her, “Oh my god.”

Of course, she felt outraged and humiliated that photos of the incident were now surfacing all over social media, no doubt. The comments section was filled with both men and women alike indicating that they should be together, much to Y/N’s dismay.

Irritated with social media and life for the day, she shoved her phone aside. She closed her eyes, holding Leo’s denim vest against her tightly as she sniffed it; the vague scent of his cologne still lingered and it helped her fall into a deep sleep as she thought of him, but she still couldn’t shake the thoughts of Patrick Hockstetter’s tender gaze locking on her.

 

* * *

 

The moaning was hushed, as if they were trying to be quiet. Y/N sighed deeply, annoyed that she was awoken by the sound of Belch fucking that reporter in his bunk. She turned, ready to snap at Belch for waking her, but she was taken aback upon glancing at Patrick pounding into one of Henry’s girls relentlessly. Her face was buried in the pillow, a blindfold over her eyes and a gag over her mouth, muffling her moans.

But that wasn’t what shocked her. What was unsettling about the scene was the pair of grey green eyes that were locked on her. His lips mumbled something, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying, even though the small light he kept in his bunk was illuminating his bunk and covering her own in a yellowish glow.

She locked eyes with him, and he smirked slyly at her as he pushed his sweaty, shaggy hair back, his lithe tattoo covered muscles shimmering in sweat as he continued to thrust into the blonde girl on his bunk. His tongue danced over his lips, watching her intensely as he whispered quietly.

He smiled wider now, blowing her a kiss as he pulled out his thick cock out of the groupie. He shook it twice, motioning towards it; as if he was calling her to him. He bit his lips in anticipations so hard that little droplets of blood fell from his lips and onto the groupies ass. He intentionally ignored the groans of the groupie on his bed as his stare was still locked on Y/N.

Finally, able to grasp what was going on, Y/N shook her head in disgust and angrily closed the curtain to her bunk shut, ignoring Patrick’s chuckle as he said quietly, “You’ll come around.”

Y/N quickly plugged her earphones into her phone, turning the volume up as she allowed her library to play on shuffle, listening to anything other than the sounds of Patrick Hockstetter’s groans and whispers. But it was too late, she saw what she saw, and all she could see when she closed her eyes was herself underneath Patrick Hockstetter as he thrusted into her.

It was then that she realized it.

That sick son of a bitch that threw roaches into her drawer, fucked some bitch on her bed, broke her guitar and got into a fist fight with her was the rightful owner of her affections.

 _There’s always worse_ , she said to him earlier.

Oh, it was worse.  _He_  was worse. He was the worst that she could have gotten feelings for.

If there was a label for the worst person in the universe, Patrick Hockstetter would win that prize. And no amount of talking herself through it could change the self-hatred she felt for catching feelings for the literal fucking satan.  

_Great, fucking perfect._


	8. Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is heavy drug use in this chapter, so if any of that makes you uncomfortable I suggest you stop reading.

Being with Leo had become a whirlwind of fun and surprisingly romantic moments embedded in her heart. It wasn’t usual for Y/N to date men that were like Leo, if anyone had gone on to so ask about her dating track record it would a consistent string of testosterone overload assholes with a god complex, each one of them narcissistic, and dare she say it, abusive; physically, emotionally… sometimes sexually.

Those weren’t topics she liked to discuss, they were in the past… however, at times she caught herself wondering if she even deserved to be with someone like Leo. Especially considering the realization she had come to a few nights ago, when she locked eyes with the scumbag guitarist that was fucking some random chick in his bunk.

She didn’t want this. She had something good… yet… she couldn’t help but feel intrigued every time she entertained the idea.

It didn’t help that the people of the internet continued to speculate that her relationship with Leo was a sham. Regardless of how many times she posted photos of him with sweet captions, the masses weren’t buying it, instead coming up with pages of well thought out points on how she and Patrick belonged together.

Patrick, with his conceited sneer fed their theories by consistently posting photos of her with flirty captions, commenting on her posts, and at times even continuing his disgusting behavior of trying to plant a kiss on her onstage, during interviews or meet and greets; and he failed every time now that Y/N knew to keep her guard up around him.

Leo was beyond livid with Patrick’s behavior; however, at Y/Ns request, he agreed to try to be civilized. It wasn’t that she thought Leo couldn’t handle himself, on the contrary, she knew Leo could probably land a few good punches on Patrick to knock him on his ass… it was the fact that Patrick had no boundaries.

If there was anything she learned from becoming an unwelcome addition to Mind Failure, it was that Patrick did not have a moral compass and the sick fucker wouldn’t think twice about sinking low and getting dirty. In short terms, she feared the repercussions that might come from it.

So, she endured the building tension that Patrick was feeding, telling herself that she had to make this work and keep the peace, which was a difficult task in and of itself. She wasn’t known for biting her tongue and holding back, on the contrary, she was known for being loud and outspoken.

But she had to make it work. She was in deep, and Johnny Ray was already working on the contract to fully integrate her into Mind Failure, so she could record with them for their next studio album, not to mention the pay. After Johnny Ray managed to get the payroll issue squared away, she saw a deposit in her account (all set up by Johnny Ray) and whistled to herself in satisfaction. The digits in her account were more than what she had ever had in her pocket before she joined. It was nothing compared to the amount that Patrick, Henry, Vic and Belch had, but to her, it was enough. And thus, money became the reason why she allowed Patrick to get away with so much shit.

Oh, the irony, considering the fight she had with the boys weeks ago about them letting him get away with what he wanted. If she only knew back then.

“You seem miserable,” Vic stated as he finally turned his attention to Y/N. She glanced down at her hands, which were currently under a UV lamp after getting a manicure and nails done.

“I’m a guitarist Vic, nails like this normally just get in the way.”

Vic scoffed, taking offense to her ungratefulness, “Oh, I’m sorry for trying to do something nice for you. Maybe next time I’ll just get you a 2000-dollar guitar, maybe then you’d actually be happy.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “You’re such a bitch, you know that?”

“And I’m fucking fabulous too, honey,” he snapped back, smirking as he observed her closer, “But I’m guessing it’s not the nails that are currently bothering you…”

She glanced over at him, his brow raised expectantly as he waited for her to explain her current train of thought. When she stayed quiet, Vic continued, “If this is about the whole Leo and Patrick thing I suggest you let Patrick know what’s what.”

“Yeah, that’ll get him to back off,” she muttered sarcastically.

“Maybe not, it’ll get ugly before it gets resolved though.”

“He’s not even interested in me, he’s just fucking with me since he can’t get me to leave the band.”

Vic smirked knowingly, raising his brows as he looked down at his nails, which were a pearlescent moon color, “You’ve thrown down with him before, that earned you a sliver of respect from him.”

“Oh, is that what you call him trying to fuck with me anytime we’re onstage? In front of everyone?”

Vic chuckled lightly, “Listen girly, it’s a step up from him antagonizing you. Not to mention the fact that you actively went and adjusted his lyrics without his consent. I’d say this is better than what would’ve have happened if you were still on his bad side.”

“You guys have a fucked-up way of viewing this ordeal,” Y/N grunted, exasperated that she couldn’t move her hands from beneath the lamp. She would rather be practicing guitar right now, alone or with Leo. It didn’t matter.

As luck would have it, Vic implored that she had to spend some time with him, and Leo had an interview to do. Not that it was going to be long, but Vic was hearing none of it, and Leo being the smart man that he was, knew better than to deny Vic his relaxation time.

“It could be worse is all I’m saying,” Vic retorted as he glanced at his nails, smiling in satisfaction as he spoke to nail tech, “Honey these are amazing. Make sure hers are too and get her a pedicure. God knows she needs one.”

“I don’t  _want_ a pedicure,” she complained, groaning as she did so. All she wanted to do was get out of here and go drinking at the bar with Henry. But not even Henry could get her out of this one.

“When Vic wants one on one time with you, you’d better give it to him or he’ll be a fresh farm cunt about it,” Henry said when Y/N voiced her displeasure of getting her nails done, “Take one for the team shug and I promise, I’ll show you a good time after.”

 _He’d fucking better_ , she thought as the nail tech removed her hands from underneath the lamp. Vic motioned for her to show him the work and he grinned in satisfaction, “Love it, though, I still think you should have gone with a more refined design.”

He frowned as he took in the simple nail shape and the sparkly black color. If Vic had his way she’d have the long ass Freddy Krueger nails with a burgundy and gold matte finish. Y/N couldn’t have that, “I agreed to come with you, and I picked a rational size that will still somewhat allow me to play properly.”

“I swear to fuck Y/N I’ve seen girls play guitar with longer nails than mine, you’re just being a difficult drama queen,” he breathed, turning to the nail tech as she prepared the tub for the inevitable pedicure, “Isn’t she?”

The nail tech, Sally, smiled as she shrugged, showing off her perfectly manicured nails with a simple French finish, “She’s being logical. Sometimes it’s hard for me to do my everyday tasks with these nails.”

“Sally honey don’t encourage her,” Vic groaned as he readied himself for a pedicure too.

Y/N reluctantly sat on the chair next to Vic’s as Sally got to work on her feet, making her suppress a giggle as her smooth hand touched her toes. Vic sighed heavily next to her as he took out his iPhone and snapped a less than pleasing photo of them in their chairs. He of course, looked like a fucking angel while she looked like a very grumpy girl who didn’t get what she wanted from the grocery store, “This picture is fucking golden.”

“Don’t post that.”

 _Ugh_ , she groaned internally as she heard the notification on her phone, an indication that she was tagged in the photo, “I’m going to catch you at your worst, Criss. And I’m going to make sure the world sees it.”

“Bitch you can try,” he said with an air of confidence. He was right. Vic was rarely seen on a bad day, and he was always dressed to impress. But she was determined. She would get him back.

“Other than Hockstetter’s bullshit, how are things with your British boy toy?”

“Not bad for a few days of dating,” she answered, “I learned the other day that he hates the dudes from Black Sunday.”

“Yeah not everyone is too fond of those guys, they’re fucking assholes. Which is why no tears were shed when Brian was put in the hospital thanks to Hockstetter,” he started, leaning in as he continued, “He blackballed Leo’s band when they were starting out, refused to let them open up for them because he felt they were beneath him.”

“He mentioned that. He also mentioned that Mind Failure actually gave them the shot of opening for them the first time around.”

Victor shrugged, “Johnny Ray kept suggesting it. And it helped that Patrick was intrigued with their music.”

“Leo is pissed about the Patrick situation,” she admitted. It was no secret about how Leo felt with Patrick’s antics, it made sense. Still, voicing it out loud made her feel dirty, like she snitched on him.

“I don’t blame him,” Vic said, nodding his head in agreement, “I’d be pissed too. Patrick knows how to push people’s buttons.”

“He’s an asshole.”

“An asshole that  _really_  wants to fuck you.”

Y/N would normally object to this prospect but seeing as how just a few days ago he literally locked eyes with her as he fucked a groupie in his bunk, she couldn’t find the words to even object. The hypocrisy in it would only drive her crazy as she tried to deny an obvious fact. Now, if Vic had said that Patrick had a thing for her, she could deny that. Because there was no doubting that Patrick only saw women as tools to fuck. The women he had been in “relationships” with had even attested to it.

“He can suck a dick for all I care,” she said, with a hint of venom and trying not to make it obvious to Vic that she was still intrigued.

“He has.”

“TMI, Vic.”

“Speaking of TMI… have you fucked Leo?”

Y/N jeered, rolling her eyes in frustration as she answered, “He wants to wait.”

Vic’s eyes widened as his brows flew up in outrage, “What?!”

“He says that he thinks it’s better that way; doesn’t want me to think that he only wants me for sex,” she answered with an edge of irritation. The lack of sex was honestly making her more petulant. Normally, she could suppress her urges, but every time she saw the boys of Mind Failure constantly getting laid on a nightly basis, the more those urges became harder and harder to bury.

“Oh. My. God. What a fucking  _prude_. I mean, it’s admirable, but stupid considering you’re the most desirable chick on the scene. Any dude would be happy to smash and pass— “

“See, and he doesn’t want that.”

“But you’re _dating_. For fucks sake the least he could do is put out.”

“You’re preaching to the choir Vic. But, I  _guess_  I’m happy to wait.”

“If you have to say ‘I guess’ then you’re not really happy about it. If anything, you sound fucking salty about it,” he pointed, making a jab about her cantankerous moods, “Maybe you should fuck Hockstetter and get it over with.”

“Hell no.”

“You don’t have to like him, angry hateful sex is awesome,” Vic explained, with a thoughtful look, “If not, maybe you can get your BFF Bowers to help you out—”

“DEFINITE FUCK NO.”

“—No strings attached kind of thing, I had a bff like that once,” he continued, not listening to Y/N’s objection, “She came over when she wanted sex, it was easy. Never caught feelings. But we knew if we wanted a quick lay without it getting awkward, we could always count on each other. Maybe you and Bowers can come to an understanding–”

“What the fuck is it with you and me getting laid? I swear you guys are more interested in what goes down in my pussy than the groupies you fuck,” she spat, annoyed at Vic’s suggestion that she not only fuck Henry, but Patrick as well. She was down to fuck, but not to that extent.

“Honey, nothing goes down in that pussy, that’s why I’m worried. I swear you’re gonna grow cobwebs in there and by the time some dude decides to fuck you, your cum is gonna puff out like fucking powder,” Vic said with an annoyed scowl.

“That’s fucking gross, Vic.”

He shrugged as he began to scroll through his Instagram feed, “At least get Leo to lick your pussy if he won’t fuck you yet. He’s gotta do something. And I heard from groupies that his head game is—”

“Fucking shit Vic! I don’t wanna hear groupie stories about my boyfriend!”

“For someone who’s completely open minded about a lot of things you act like a little girl when it comes to talk about groupies and your boyfriend. We’ve all done it, hun.”

“Not me.”

“Correction—not that we  _know_  of. I’ve heard about your golden days of being a grade A fuck machine,” Vic teased.

Y/N’s eyes widened at the piece of information that she tried to hard to keep hidden; she was sure none of the guys knew. She was sure no one knew about it. Then again… “Who’d you hear that from?”

“It’s interesting when you become a full-time member of a very popular band; lots of people start coming forward sharing stories about you. And lemme say, the ones about you— well, they’re a little too freaky even for me,” he said in a matter of fact tone, “In this case, dozens of people that you partook in sexual activities with came forward and talked about what you liked, didn’t like, shit like that. Funny though, I always pegged you as a bottom.”

“ _Vic_ ,” she mumbled darkly, her voice carrying a heavy weight with it, a warning. Vic glanced over at her, his dark brown eyes rimmed with a light layer of silver liner showed that he knew he was going too far in his teasing.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a soft tone, his gaze falling to his feet in shame as he realized that he was taking it a bit too far, “I can get carried away sometimes.”

Y/N pursed her lips as she glanced down at the nail techs working on their feet, wondering if they would repeat anything that was said in the confines of the salon, “Where did you hear this from?”

“It was found on a blog online, the person running it claimed to have slept with you and had accounts of other men and women who also said they fucked you; it was forwarded to me by a good friend of mine from back home.”

“Who else knows?”

Vic remained silent. He leaned back in his lounge chair, trying to avoid the question as he scrolled through his phone.

“Don’t fucking ignore me, Criss. Who the fuck _else_  knows?” she repeated, this time with a tone of anger. Her eyes widened when she saw the SUV that was provided to them by the label as a means for getting around. Patrick, along with Henry exited the vehicle while Belch sat in the front seat, laughing as he spoke on the phone. A cigarette lay limp in Henry’s lips as a joint graced Patrick’s, “Does Patrick know?  _Henry_?”

Vic turned and watched them as they casually waltzed towards the salon, laughing loudly at some stupid thing that Henry said, “I don’t know, honestly. They haven’t mentioned anything. But, I wouldn’t put it past my friend to email it to them as well. She doesn’t like you.”

Y/N groaned at the uncertainty. She needed to know if they knew about her past. If they found out, then there was nothing she could do about it, but to her, those times in her past were the darkest she had been in, and she found comfort in one thing only. It wasn’t something she wanted people knowing.

Other people found comfort in drugs. Alcohol. Food. Whatever. Not Y/N.

The bell to the salon rang open as the boys walked inside without a care, disregarding the  _no smoking_  sign as they entered the building. Henry chortled at the sight in front of him as he pulled out his phone, “You look fucking miserable, shug.”

“Don’t you fucking snap—”

“Too late,” he said as he walked to the back area and shoved his phone in her face, obviously recording the interaction, “I swear to god, your toes are gonna look fucking sexy.”

“Fuck off Bowers,  _you_  could do with a good pedicure too,” Vic said, jumping in to Y/N’s defense, “That is if anyone would go near those nasty ass feet of yours.”

“I got man’s feet, Criss. You wouldn’t know shit about that,” Henry said, as he plopped himself on top of Y/N, pointing the camera to the both as she groaned at the added weight. Y/N watched as the live video gained more and more views as people continued to tune in and leave their comments.

“Please, Bowers, do not confuse a man’s foot with fungus. A real man will take proper care of his body—”

“If that ain’t the gayest shit I ever heard…”

“Anyway,” Vic continued, ignoring Henry and glancing over at Patrick, “I told you we’d text you when we were finished.”

Henry pointed the camera at Patrick, who was leaning against the wall nonchalantly, the joint still clenched between his fingers as he ran a free hand through his sweat drenched hair, his black t-shirt was also drenched in sweat from the harsh Arizona heat. He smirked slyly at Y/N, licking his lips as he simultaneously took a puff from his joint, “Got tired of waiting”

“Well too fucking bad. We’re not finished, nowhere near finished,” Vic retorted as he tossed a magazine at Patrick, missing him by a few inches, not even making the lanky man flinch.

Henry zoomed the camera in Patrick’s direction, capturing the argument that was taking place between Vic and Patrick, “Ah yes, it’s not a lovely day without at least three fights between the members of Mind Failure.”

“I have been putting off my nail appointments for weeks because you cocks refuse to indulge me for just one day!” Vic shouted.

Patrick shrugged, not bothered at all by the blonde’s stress, “Youve been indulged.”

“We’re not going anywhere until we’re done,” Vic stubbornly protested, ignoring Patrick’s comment, “I don’t rush you motherfuckers when you’ve dragged me to those disgusting, low grade titty bars—”

“But you complain like a bitch,” Henry chimed.

Vic ignored him as he continued his tangent, “So if you don’t want to leave, then take your asses outside so me and Y/N can finish our pedis in peace.”

Henry sighed loudly, making eye contact with Patrick. Henry himself knew that trying to make Victor leave when he wasn’t ready was a lost cause, “Finish your crap. We’ll wait outside,” he looked down at the nail techs who were watching the interaction, while working on their feet, in amusement, “You got twenty minutes to finish up, sweethearts. I’ll tip you generously if you finish by the time we walk in through that door again.”

“But I still expect good quality,” Vic interjected, as Henry pushed himself off Y/N, planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

“Twenty minutes!” Henry called out from over his shoulder as he pushed the door open, ending his live video and shoving his phone back in his pocket. Patrick lingered for a few moments, watching Y/N with interested and conniving eyes, a wicked grin spreading across his lips as he pushed himself off against the wall and followed Henry out.

She watched them as their backs pressed against the glass, Patrick leaned on the hard glass, calm and relaxed while Henry spoke animatedly to him, making a ton of crude hand gestures as he lit a cigarette.

Y/N turned her attention to Vic, who was sulking now that his mood had been ruined by the boys, “Who’s your friend that sent you the blog?”

“Her name’s Greta.”

“Tell Greta that if I ever see her, I’ll knock her fucking teeth in.”

Vic chuckled, “She needs a good ass kicking. I like her, but she can be a raging bitch… especially considering that she slept with all of us at one point…”

“Is she your friends with benefits?”

Vic nodded as he showed her a photo of a blonde girl with the face of an ass. She didn’t really have an ass face, but Y/N automatically hated the bitch for digging through her shit so it earned her an assface, “Yup. But to be clear, she was also the band’s go to for sex. So, I guess she was DTF with all of us.”

He locked his phone and placed it into the pockets of his tight, white, skinny jeans, “Look, I wouldn’t worry too much about the guys knowing about your past—I don’t think they’d really give a damn. Besides, they’ve done worse shit than you.”

She crinkled her brows and tilted her head, wondering what he meant by that. Instead, she sighed heavily, deciding to stay on the topic at hand, “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want anyone knowing… you know and that’s already enough to make me very uncomfortable,” she admitted.

“Does Leo know?”

Y/N scoffed as she cracked her fingers, “We’ve been dating for a few days, Vic. It’s not a topic to bring up in the lovebird stage.”

“Understandable.”

The rest of their session was spent in silence as Vic scrolled through his Instagram feed, posting photos of his manicured nails and taking selfies to post on his story.

All the while, Y/N wished she could crawl into the confines of her bunk and play her Steve Vai signature guitar in silence. The fact that some jealous bitch scoured the depths of the internet just to find dirt on her left her irate, and the fact that now her past was slowly coming to surface put her on edge.

She glanced towards the guys outside, who were now joined by Belch. Her brows furrowed as she observed Patrick ignoring the boys around him, a sly smirk spreading across his lips as he scrolled through his phone. His eyes shot up and locked with Y/Ns through the crystal-clear window, his tongue glided over his lips as he jutted his crotch out towards her.

She rolled her eyes, opting to ignore him and follow Vic’s suit of scrolling through Instagram and Facebook, completely oblivious to the obvious shit storm that was coming her way.

 

* * *

 

Y/N laid on her cool bunk with her noise cancelling headphones over her ears, ignoring the boys around her as they wrestled on the ground and argued over the fact that Henry dragged Vic out of the nail salon, embarrassing him in front of the women that worked there.

She scrolled obsessively through her phone, checking to see if shit had hit the fan. But as it happened, the internet was silent. If there was any indication that her past was out there for everyone to see, she didn’t find it…  _yet_.

The thought of Patrick smiling mischievously at her hours earlier put her on edge. It was as if he was up to something, and knowing him, he was stirring the fucking pot and adding more shit to it just to see the outcome play out.

But now, she wondered if maybe he was just trying to get a reaction out of her, and she allowed herself to relax momentarily as she side eyed the boys bitching about fuck knows what now.

Belch, not surprisingly, was missing. As of late, he had been spending more time on his phone with the reporter he met in Houston; Cora. She thought nothing of it at first, when he told her he wanted her to follow them to San Antonio, Texas, and then Austin. But Y/N realized that shit was getting heavy as soon as Belch told her to tag along and finish the tour with them.

Not surprising, however, was her reluctance to tag along as she eyed Patrick, Henry and herself warily, still fuming over the events that happened after their first interview together. So, she stayed in Houston, but that didn’t deter the band’s drummer from continuously calling her and sending her sweet messages. Belch even stopped sleeping with groupies, pushing them off if any of them came anywhere near his vicinity.

As much of a hardass as she was, she had to admit that it was adorable. Almost like her relationship with Leo… only more…  _genuine_.

Her phone vibrated loudly, shaking her out of her thoughts. She smirked when she saw that the notification was from Leo, but her smirk was immediately wiped from her face as she read the words on the screen:

 **Leo 4:31 P.M.:**  We need to talk.

 **Y/N 4:31 P.M.:**  What about?

 **Leo 4:32 P.M.:**  I gotta show you something… can I come to your bus?

Y/N glanced at the boys. Vic and Henry were duking it out on the floor; with Vic on top of Henry, punching him with a hard fist as Henry blocked his face from the tiny blonde’s fury. Patrick stood near his bunk, laughing in amusement at the fight taking place in front of him, not even bothering to put an end to it.

She pulled off her headphones and pushed herself on her bunk, landing on top of the fighting boys. Henry took the opportunity to roll over, making Vic squash Y/N with his surprisingly heavy body.

She felt strong hands pull her out from underneath Vic, who was now the victim of Henry’s wrath, “Watch your step,  _shug_.”

“Fuck off, Hockstetter,” she spat, shrugging him off as she stepped over the boys and headed towards the lounge, typing in a quick reply to Leo.

Her free hand reached into the mini fridge, pulling out a bottle of Corona that was nestled amongst the other bottles of beer, all tributes of the groupies that partied with them the night before. Just as she set her phone down on the table, a hand snatched the beer from her; she whirled around to see Patrick’s arrogant expression focusing on her as he opened the bottle and took a drink, “Thanks, I was getting bored watching those idiots.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re the one that instigated it,” Y/N shot back, snatching the bottle back from him as she took a seat on the small couch.

Patrick shrugged innocently, “Gotta have some kind of excitement.”

“You’re seriously demented,” she simply said, chugging the bottle of beer in her hand.

“Of course, you’d know all about needing to be excited, wouldn’t you?” Patrick pointed, coolly leaning against the wall, his face covered in half shadow as a chilling sneer spread across his lips.

Her brows knitted in suspicion once again as she tried to read his expression beyond the smugness. She gently set the half empty bottle of beer on the carpeted floor beside her as she asked, “What the fuck are you going on about?”

Patrick leaned forward as he pushed himself off the wall and pulled out a cigarette. His long, nimble fingers quickly brought a light to it and in a moment the lighter was out of sight, back in his pocket as he started, “You. You act like you’re better than me for using others for my own entertainment.”

Her eyes widened at the accusation. She scoffed, biting her lip as she retorted, “Vic and Henry are in the other room fighting over something that’s probably fucking stupid and trivial, all because  _you_  pushed their buttons.”

“You gotta realize something, _shug_ , everyone is entertainment. Of course, you probably realized that a long time ago when you fucked everything and anything that came your way,” he paused, glancing at Y/N and gauging her shocked expression, smiling when she remained silent as he took a drag from his cigarette in satisfaction, “You think you’re better because you ‘overcame’ your urges, I think you’re just lying to yourself by suppressing the most primal part of you.”

In that moment, she hated the way his stupid smug face made her realize that he was right. Still, she wasn’t going to tell him that. She swallowed lightly, regaining her composure, “At least I try. Can the same be said about you? How many people are you going to keep fucking over just because you’re bored?”

His smile suddenly disappeared as his face darkened. His grey green eyes held something malicious, and… something  _else_. Something she couldn’t quite make out. His eyes were locked on her as he stared at her with a mask of an expression, “As many as I need to. And as many as I want.”

Those sudden words gave Y/N chills as she glanced at him, she felt a hint of fear crawl into her blood and seeping into her bones at his words. Patrick was a fucking puzzle that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t quite figure him out. Every time she thought she had, he said something that was contradictive to what her prior presumption of him was.

This much was true; Patrick was an asshole. There was no lie about that. But, there was something  _else_  inside of Patrick that made her wonder what was going on in that fucking mind of his. At times, she saw glimpses of a tender human being… and other times, most times, all the time, she saw something else, something dark and disturbing… yet, she was drawn to it.

The sudden sound of the door to the bunks slamming open pulled her out of her thoughts. She chuckled when she saw both Vic and Henry walking out, side by side with their arms over the other’s shoulder, laughing as if nothing happened.

Patrick smirked as he took another drag of his cigarette, the dark look on his face was gone and replaced with his normal, less terrifying expression, “Feel better?”

“Way better, and Henry agreed to let me have a whole day of shopping for him,” Vic announced, happily.

It wasn’t a secret that Vic was pissed over the fact that his morning was ruined, and since then, tensions had been building. It was only a matter of time before they exploded and got into a fist fight.

Henry rolled his eyes, knowing that he put himself in the jaws of a lion and now he was dinner, but after the ordeal at the nail salon, he knew he had to make it up to the vocalist. And if there was anything that Vic loved more than his own appearance, it was shopping for the boys, “As long as you don’t try to force me to wear that fucking makeup then I guess I can stand to buy some new shit.”

Henry snatched the cigarette out of Patrick’s lips as she plopped himself down in front of Y/N, laying his head on her lap. His brows furrowed as he just realized that Y/N and Patrick were alone, “What the hell was going on in here?”

Patrick continued to stare at Y/N as he spoke in a cool tone, “Just bringing your beloved princess down a peg or two.”

Henry’s brows furrowed, and his anger was beginning to show at Patrick’s words, “The fuck you mean—”

A sudden knock on the tour bus interrupted whatever Henry was about to say, prompting the sandy blonde, mullet haired man to turn his attention to whomever was at the door. Vic pushed the door open, smiling as he allowed Leo to enter the bus.

Henry, ignoring the anger that was already beginning to set in, greeted Leo as he glanced at him laying on Y/N’s lap, “No need to be jealous, kid. We both know she couldn’t handle this d—”

“Shut up, Bowers,” Y/N said, smacking his arm as he blew kisses at her.

Vic and Henry began to tease Leo, building a friendly banter with him as he informed them about Death’s Design’s plans for a new album. Her eyes trailed from the man that she was dating, to the man in the corner of the room, watching the whole interaction with cold, calculating eyes. He glanced at Y/N, a small smile spreading across his lips as his mouth opened. Immediately, Y/N interrupted, “Um, can Leo and I be left alone? We kinda had things to talk about.”

Vic and Henry glanced at Y/N in confusion. Before Henry could have a fit, Vic interjected and agreed, “My bad, let’s get out of here guys. I think Belch is finally done talking to that reporter, maybe we can go and see the sights or some shit.”

“In New Mexico?” Henry asked.

“Let’s go,” Patrick ordered. Which not only surprised Y/N, but everyone else the tour bus. Y/N could swear she heard the birds stop singing at his words. He smoothly crushed the remainder of his cigarette on top of the counter as he brought the joint behind his ear to his lips.

“What’s with the sudden—” Henry started but was cut off by Vic throwing his hand over his mouth, not wanting to jinx the rarity of Patrick not wanting to stay and stir shit. He pulled Henry out of the tour bus and into the hot New Mexico sun, all the while Henry was thrashing in response.

Patrick sleekly followed behind them, shooting a knowing smirk towards Y/N before turning and coming face to face with Leo, who was glaring maliciously at Patrick. It was no secret that those two shared no love, what with Patrick consistently trying to make moves on Y/N and Leo voicing his disdain towards it.

She readied herself as Patrick leaned in and whispered to Leo, “Be gentle with her.”

Leo rolled his eyes and turned to glance at Y/N as Patrick slammed the door shut behind him.

It was quiet. Y/N sat awkwardly on the couch, pulling her legs up and sitting cross legged as she admired the man in front of her. As usual, Leo wore his backwards facing cap over his full head of messy curls. Regardless of the heat, he refused to remove the dark denim jacket that become an extension of his own body, “So, you wanted to talk?”

Leo sighed as he rolled his neck. He took out a pack of cigarettes and lit on as he started, “Yeah.”

“Well… what about?”

He sighed heavily as he took slow deliberate steps towards her, “Look, I just want you to know that I don’t care about what happened in your past and if it was up to me I wouldn’t go digging through—“

Y/Ns eyes widened at the implications he was making that she immediately cut him off, “Wait, hold the fuck on….”

Leo remained silent as Y/N examined his face. She sighed deeply, her body tense as she asked in a low voice, “What the fuck do you mean, ‘ _I don’t care about what happened in your past?_ ’”

He took a long drag from his cigarette as he gathered his thoughts, until he finally answered, “A blog was forwarded to me this morning; it described your sexual history. In high detail.”

Y/N bit her bottom lip until she tasted the coppery taste of her blood. Her nails dug into her skin as she allowed the rage she felt fill her. Leo handed her his cigarette, which she gratefully took, “Who sent it to you?”

“Who do you think?” he asked as he pulled his phone out. She watched as he went through his apps and opened his Gmail account. She rolled her eyes as soon as she saw the name of the sender on the address bar:  ** _trickymindfailure_**.

 _I guess Patrick did get it_ , then, she thought to herself as she roughly continued to inhale the smoke from the cigarette. The motherfucker just had to do it. He just had to stir the fucking pot.  _That fucking asshole._

_I should fuck him up again._

_He’d probably like it._

Leo remained silent as he watched her, giving her time to gather her thoughts and calm herself. Finally, after a few heavy puffs of nicotine, she asked, “Are you embarrassed by me?”

“What? No!” Leo answered, the outrage clear in his voice, “I don’t give a damn about what you did before we were together.”

“You know, there is a chance that I could still do it,” she said, thinking of the conversation she had with Patrick a few moments prior to Leo arriving.

Leo remained silent at those words.

They weren’t exactly the truth, she could control herself a lot better now. But, it wasn’t entirely a lie either, seeing as how no matter how much she could control herself, the urges were still there. And the fact that the guys in the band consistently had sex with groupies around or in front of her didn’t help. But, she somehow managed to pull through… that didn’t mean that she wasn’t tempted to partake.

Leo bit his bottom lip as he thought about what she said, “Well, I mean… have you?”

“No.”

“Then there isn’t a problem.”

She locked her eyes on his, wondering why in the hell this guy even wanted to be with her, “You  _still_ want to be with me? After finding this out?”

Leo chuckled as he shook his head, “Do you care about the number of women I’ve fucked?”

Y/N thought about it for a moment and come to think of it, she  _wasn’t_  jealous, not the least bit, “No.”

“There you go. If you think that the shit that you did before is gonna get me to break up with you then you got another thing coming,” he said as he pulled her in for a hug, squeezing her tightly, “Besides, we’ve only been dating for a few days, I wanna stay with you longer than that.”

Y/N smiled slyly at him as she pressed her lips against his. His breathing intensified as she climbed on top of him, straddling him and slamming him back against the back of the couch, “Mm wait—”

“Hm?” Y/N asked, as she began to plant soft kisses down his smooth neck, her hand reaching down to stroke the hard bulge in his jeans.

He shivered, turning weak beneath her touch. He pulled back from her kisses as Y/N licked her lips, her lids hooded her seductive glance as she bit her bottom lip and unzipped his zipper, pulling out the hard cock that was tucked inside his boxer briefs. She kept her gaze on him as she gently licked his wet head with the tip of her tongue. He let out a moan, his hands grabbing the sides of her hair, as if he was torn between wanting to push her head down on his cock and keeping true to his word to be gentle.

But, she knew she had him, and as soon as she shoved the rest of his cock in her mouth, the length of it hitting the back of her throat, he let loose and thrusted his dick deeper and deeper into her mouth.

His dark eyes looked down at her as his jaw slackened, his lips parting into a small o as he grabbed a small bunch of her hair and pulled her up to him, planting a kiss onto her lips.

Y/N knew what he wanted, and he wanted to take it slow and easy. But Y/N didn’t know how to do slow, and as soon as they were tumbling naked on the floor of the tour bus, Leo’s tattooed body on top of her naked, scarred body. His cock was average sized, not too bad, but as he thrusted into her slowly and smoothly, she found herself growing bored. The worst part of it all, was that now she wished she had taken Hockstetter’s offer to fuck.

 

* * *

 

The joint hanging in her lips brought a sense of relaxation to her as she laid on the floor of the tour bus in her panties and Leo’s Immortal band t-shirt. She always felt somewhat of a high after she had sex, and although it wasn’t that great, the fact that she finally got laid brought a sense of satisfaction to her that she didn’t notice the boys stomping in the bus, their brows furrowed as they all took in the sight in front of them.

“For fucks’ sake, Y/N, where are your pants?” Belch asked, as he turned around, his cheeks reddening as he tried his best to be respectful and avert his gaze from the half naked girl laying on the carpeted tour bus.

Y/N glanced up, her eyes heavy as she looked up at the boys. Belch still had his back turned to her as he tiptoed his way to the bunks, while Vic and Henry stared at her in amusement. But it wasn’t their reactions that interested her, it was the lanky guitarist behind them who stared at her as if she was a snack, ready to be eaten at any given moment.

“Can you close the fucking door? I’ve been trying to hot box this shithole,” she drawled as she laid back down on the carpeted floor.

“Are you sure you should be laying there? I mean, there’s bound to be patches of Henry’s cum in there,” Vic said, the tone of disgust clear in his face as he threw himself on the couch. Henry plopped down beside her, taking the joint from her fingers while Patrick slammed the door shut behind him, his eyes still focused on her.

“She doesn’t mind, do you shug?” Henry asked as he took a long hit from the joint. His baby blue eyes flew up to Patrick, who was leaning against the counter and staring at Y/N’s ass, “Turn your fucking eyes away Patsy, she don’t want you.”

“Kinda hard to look away when it’s hanging out like that,” he smirked.

She felt the satisfaction of her last fuck wearing off the more she thought about Patrick fucking her. He had a nice, big cock; it’s not like she could just forget it, especially after he literally showed her a few days ago. Still, she was with Leo now, and the guilt spreading through her for imagining Patrick being the one fucking her was intense that her self-loathing was turned outward towards Patrick, “As if I’d let you  _anywhere_ near my pussy.”

“I can change your mind,” Patrick said as he began to unzip his pants.

“Please, I’ve seen your cock Patrick. Not impressive… Leo is way bigger than you,” she lied.

Vic’s eyes widened as soon as he heard the words leave Y/Ns lips that he tossed his phone aside and asked, “ _O.M.G_. Does this mean you guys finally fucked?”

Y/N groaned loudly, “You make it seem like it’s a bad thing. We’ve only been dating for five fucking days!”

“Wait.  _Wait_ ,” Henry interjected as he sat up while taking another hit off the joint, “What the hell is he talking about?”

“Vic—”

“Leo didn’t want to put out. Said he wanted to wait,” Vic said in a mocking tone, cutting Y/N off as she groaned again, “That he didn’t want her to think he wanted her just to fuck her.”

Henry’s brows furrowed as his jaw dropped simultaneously, he tilted his head as if he was trying to comprehend what the hell Leo’s deal was, “What kind of sappy shit is that?”

“He was being considerate!” Y/N retorted, snatching the joint from Henry’s fingers.

“Fuck that, Y/N. You waited  _five days_?  _For dick_?  _Why_? You could have gotten dick from anyone else!”

“I didn’t want anyone else’s dick,” Y/N answered with a shrug, hoping that she was as convincing as she pretended to sound.

“Was he thick? How big was he? How did he—”

“So that explains why you’re all chilled out now,” Henry pointed, slapping her thigh, “Told you, all you needed was dick.”

Y/N giggled quietly as she kicked Henry’s foot with her own. He quickly grabbed her leg and bit her ankle playfully as he pulled her towards him and plopped his head down on her stomach, “Gimme that fucking joint.”

She handed him the joint that was now three quarters of the way finished. She listened as Henry continued to go on a tangent about how much of a little bitch Leo was for wanting to wait, “What is he a fucking virgin? Does the pussy scare him?  _Shiiiiiiit_. All I know, shug, is that if I was your dude you best fucking believe I’d be wrecking that all day long.”

“You couldn’t handle it,” she retorted, glancing at Patrick as she said so.

She was slightly taken aback by the look in his eyes. His glare was focused on the ground, as if he was deep in thought. His grey green eyes immediately shot up to meet her curious stare, but he didn’t smile. Instead, he started, “Get your fucking shit ready. Our set is gonna start soon.”

“Pat—we have like three hours,” Vic protested in confusion, wondering why Patrick was the one ordering everyone to prepare for the set. It was normally Vic or Blech that had to do it, not Patrick.

“Fucking do it,” Patrick ordered, his voice darker as he stomped past them in a huff, slamming the door shut behind him as he left the tour bus.

Henry stared at the door long after Patrick had gone, finally turning to ask, “The fuck’s up with him?”

Vic shrugged, smiling slyly as he answered, “Maybe he’s jealous.”

“Of what?” Y/N asked sharing Henry’s confusion.

“That Leo fucked you.”

Henry laughed out loud as he stood up and pulled Y/N up with him, “Vic, we’ve known Patrick almost half our lives. That motherfucker doesn’t know what jealousy is.”

“Maybe he  _didn’t_ ,” Vic agreed, jumping to his feet as he headed towards the bunks to change for the fifth time today.

“Psh,” Henry scoffed, “Patrick’s my brother. Trust me, I know that fucker don’t know what jealousy is.”

“That’s the second time you said that, what the fuck do you mean?” she asked.

Henry sighed heavily as he turned and pulled the bottle of whiskey from one of the cabinets. He opened the cap and took a swig, handing it to Y/N. She listened closely as he started, “All I’m saying shug, is that Patsy ain’t all there. He doesn’t  _feel_ things the way the rest of us do; that’s what makes him so dangerous.”

_Doesn’t feel things? What the fuck does that even mean?_

“Dangerous?” she prodded, taking a swig from the bottle and handing it back to Henry.

His baby blue eyes bore into hers, narrowing as if he was trying to contemplate if she could really be trusted with this information, “You saw what he did to Brian. That fucker from Black Sunday. You remember how he was pulled away? Laughing?”

Y/N nodded as he leaned on the counter, listening intently to Henry’s words. He took another swig of the whiskey, swallowing it like it was water when he finally continued, “He’s _always_  laughing. It’s all funny to him. He doesn’t know what jealousy is because he doesn’t know what it means to care about anyone.”

“He cares about  _you_.”

Henry smirked, his brows raised as he processed what Y/N just said to him all while he pulled a glass out of the cabinet. As he filled it with whiskey, he continued, “I know my brother well enough to know that it’s because he and I both live life in the fast lane. It’s not because he cares. Anyway,” he paused as he took a long drink from his glass, “Don’t worry yourself about Patsy. He’s fine with having you in the band and that’s all you need to worry about… that and getting that pussy ass bitch Leo to put out more often.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, scowling, “I wish Vic had kept his mouth shut.”

“I’m fucking glad Vic told us; now, I get to rag on that fucker— “

“You do that, and I’ll make sure you never get laid again,” she threatened.

Henry feigned heartbreak as he clutched his chest, “Whoa. That’s hitting below the belt, literally.”

Y/N smugly smirked at him, tapping his balls as she passed by him and made her way towards the bunks where Belch was laying in his thin mattress, on the phone again. Shocker. While Vic contemplated between two outfit choices laid out in his perfectly organized bunk.

She pulled open her drawer, yanking out a pair of distressed, faded denim jeans and an old denim vest scattered with patches. She pulled the jeans on over her panties, debating if she should keep Leo’s shirt on instead. She sniffed it, realizing that it smelled like sweat and as she glanced down at it, she frowned, finding a cum stain on it.

Without a care, she pulled off the shirt over her head and tossed it on the ground. She quickly pulled on her vest, not wanting the boys to see the scars on her back. She didn’t have many, that was the thing about her abusers, they were careful. But the ones she had were deep, and for the most part she could hide them if she was careful.

Regardless of her escapades, she always made sure to be on top and never allow anyone to fuck her from behind. It was bad enough that people would probably find out about her sexual life, she didn’t need anyone else digging more dirt on her. However, she was more careful about hiding the scars and keeping the abuse secret than she was about who she fucked.

She buttoned the vest up, adjusting her breasts so she could show the right amount of cleavage. Once she was satisfied, she ran her fingers through her hair as she made her way back to the restroom to touch up her makeup.

A few moments later, Vic joined her as he also started his routine, “Are you going to watch him play again?”

“Good girlfriends always support their boyfriends,” she answered as she applied a fresh layer of foundation and concealer.

“I wish you would come and have pre-drinks with us like you used to,” Vic said in a tiny voice, feigning sadness.

Y/N snorted as she leaned towards the mirror to touch up her eyeliner, “I’m not in the mood to get fucked up before our set tonight.”

“Weren’t you just smoking a joint and sipping whiskey with Bowers?”

“I don’t want to get  _too_  fucked up,” she corrected.

Vic rolled his eyes as he applied blue and green eyeshadow onto his eyelids and gently began to blend them together with his brush, “I swear, you date a dude or a few days and suddenly you forget all about us.”

“Shut up, Vic,” Y/N said, slapping his ass. He smirked and puckered his lips, blowing her a kiss. She glanced at her reflection on the mirror one last time as she gathered her makeup and placed back in its drawer. Her brows furrowed when her eyes caught sight of a tiny piece of paper thrown on the floor among all the dirty, damp towels. She reached down for it, unfolding it and reading the sloppy words on the piece of paper:

_Rippling through my drifting mind_

_What if I knew the journey this whole time?_

“Does he have to leave his fucking lyrics all over the damn place?”

“Patrick’s mind runs about a mile a minute when he’s working on lyrics, so he writes them down, doesn’t matter where he is. It’s best to leave it where you found it, otherwise he’ll lose his shit if it’s not there when he needs it,” Vic informed. His tone of voice was one that said he’d made the mistake of moving Patrick’s shit around and got a lot of shit for it.

She folded the piece of paper and placed it back exactly how he found it, wondering how the song writing for the new album was going so far. She was aware of Patrick always taking over the creative process, he was also very tight lipped about the upcoming material he had for the next record. Of course, the boys always told her not to worry about it, Patrick always delivered and if they knew him, by the time the tour was done he would have all the songs’ lyrics, tabs and drum lines ready for recording.

He had yet to mention anything else about her addition, other than the one time she found him playing guitar on top of the bus and he mentioned he might keep the bridge she came up with to the song he wrote. Unless he was just messing with her. She wouldn’t put it past him.

Sighing, she placed her makeup back in her drawer and pulled on her shin high, studded leather boots. She grabbed her guitar and left the tour bus, stopping to take photos with a few fans when she entered the venue.

Death’s Design had yet to start their set, and currently, they were setting up and tuning their instruments. Y/N set her guitar next to her amp for the tech to take care of, slowly, she crept up behind the curly haired man with a simple white t-shirt and dark blue skinny jeans. She threw her arms around him from behind, nibbling on his earlobe as he tuned his guitar. He chuckled lightly, not losing focus on his guitar, “You’re early.”

“Got ready early and had my smoke sesh ruined so I figured I’d come see you before the show,” she answered, letting her hands fall as she allowed him to turn and face her. He planted a kiss on her lips, getting a reaction from the crowd that watched.

Leo shyly smiled as he pulled her closer to him, “Ah, so I’m just a second choice.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she returned his smile with another kiss. Leo moaned quietly, pulling away as he covered his crotch with his guitar, “Someone’s excited.”

“I can’t help it,” he replied with a small side smile, “Especially after today. Looking at you, I can’t stop picturing you naked on the floor.”

“Finish your set and maybe we can have a quickie in the restroom.”

“Why not now?”

“Because you need to get your set ready,” she answered, smugly.

“Sorry not all of us can get people to do it for us,” he teased.

“Keep talking to me like that and I’ll cut you off.”

Leo pouted as he pulled her in for another kiss, “I gotta get finished setting up. Will you be side stage when I’m done?”

“Probably, Vic was nagging about wanting to have pre-drinks.”

“Go for it,” he encouraged, “We’ve got months left of this tour, and we’re playing the same set list, so you won’t be missing anything new. Just do me a favor, if you do go, try to stay away from that asshole Patrick.”

“Kinda hard to when he’s in the same band as me,” she reminded him.

“I know, but still… after what he did today, I don’t think I’ll let anymore of his shit slide. I don’t care if we are opening up for—”

“You’re hot when you get mad,” she interrupted, ignoring the obvious irritation that was growing inside of him because of Patrick.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he said, steering the conversation back to the topic at hand.

She sighed heavily, nodding in understanding, “Alright.”

Leo smiled tenderly at her, grabbing her chin with his free hand and pulling her in for a deep kiss. After a few moments, he finally pulled away, whispering in her ear, “I’ll see you later.”

She smirked back at him as she walked off the stage, allowing Leo to get back to tuning his guitar. She made her way towards the back where the boys were hanging out, having drinks and talking amongst themselves with a few girls and guys surrounding them. Vic was deep in conversation with a tall red head man, while Belch watched the interaction with curious eyes. Henry and Patrick were huddled together over a table in the darkest corner. Her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of the white lines on the table and Henry pulling out a straw, snorting deeply alongside Patrick.

Once they were finished, Henry glanced up and quickly shoved the baggie into his pocket as she made her way towards him, “Starting early?”

“Just a quick pick me up,” Henry explained, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

“Want a bump?” Patrick asked with a sly smile.

“I’m good.”

Patrick chuckled as he carefully laid a small pile of the substance on his fist that was caked with dried blood. She momentarily wondered who he got into a fight with this time, but she was quickly put off as he quickly snorted the coke into his nostrils as if it was air. He licked the rest of the substance as he started, “You don’t have a problem drinking, smoking joints and fucking everyone, but taking a bump of coke is too much for you?”

Henry immediately shot a dark glare at Patrick, “Keep your mouth shut Patsy, no one calls you out on your shit—”

“I get called out every fucking day,” he retorted, “Besides, I think the princess can speak for herself. You gonna jump in anytime someone says something to her?”

“Only if it’s you cause you’re always a fucking asshole,” Henry shot back, tensing and clenching his fists as he prepared himself for a fight.

“Can’t you guys go one day without fighting?” Vic interjected, annoyed that he had to divert his attention from the very handsome red head in front of him.

“Dude, didn’t you throw down with Henry earlier?” Belch asked, calling him out as well.

Vic rolled his eyes as he explained, “That was different— they’re fighting for no fucking reason.”

Belch sighed heavily as he rubbed his face, “You guys start, I’m gonna fucking lock up all the liquor tonight and none of these lovely ladies—and gentlemen—will have access to the bus. I fucking mean it. Quit your shit.”

Henry glared at Patrick, debating if fighting him was worth not getting laid. In the end, the prospect of dipping his dick into pussy won as he turned and poured three shots of whiskey. He handed one to Y/N, one to Patrick and kept one for himself. He raised his up as he said, “To being a fucking asshole that loves to fuck.”

He shot a quick glance at Y/N, nodding. It was his way of showing her that he didn’t give a shit about her past and he never would. Y/N was grateful for it as she took the shot and slammed the glass down on the table, followed by Henry and then Patrick, who set his glass down quietly, “So,” Henry started as he pulled out his phone and began to scroll through his Instagram, “Check out this bitch, Y/N.”

She glanced over at his phone, admiring photo after photo of every female he came across on his Instagram, each one of them very attractive, and each one of them got a message from Henry that they were invited to party with him.

She shook her head, somewhat impressed that Henry finally managed to utilize social media to get laid. But her attention wasn’t on Henry, it was on the tall lanky man that had four women crowding him, each one of them complimenting him on his style in high pitched flirty voices.

She rolled her eyes in annoyance as she took a sip from the bottle of whiskey that Henry provided. As of late she had grown accustomed to the groupies crowding around them, some had even tried to make a move on Y/N, but seeing them crowd around Patrick filled her with a sense of burning rage that she had felt many times before, but only now did she realize the root of it all.

She glanced towards him, eying him up and down as she took in his appearance, trying not to make her stare too obvious. As usual, he always looked good. Which was somewhat strange, considering the man had the worst personal hygiene she had ever come across, of course, he always managed to cover it up by bathing himself in gallons of cologne. Occasionally, he showered, but that was extremely rare.

The fact of the matter was that it was hard to not to stare at him. He wore a sleeveless black shirt with a print of a brain being blown out by a handgun, which was the same as the tattoo he had on his forearm. He wore his typical black skinny jeans tucked inside of his black combat boots. His hair was loose and falling slightly to his shoulders, somewhat damp from the sweat of the mysterious fight he had gotten in earlier.

His eyes suddenly shot up and locked with hers. He smiled at her and thrust his crotch out, taking interest in the fact that he had caught her checking him out. She turned away, turning her attention back to Henry as he continued to go on about the women he had lined up for tonight. Her vision was beginning to shift as the spins started to finally take in.

She turned over to glance at Vic who was in full make out mode with the red head man. She squinted her eyes as she took note of Vic smoothly popping a small pill into his mouth. Henry, who was aware of her lack of interest in his topic of conversation, nudged her as he handed her the joint in his hand. She sluggishly took the joint from him, suddenly feeling tired as the hit settled.

Henry laid back on his stool as he lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke out in small o’s as she started, “Coke ain’t your drug huh?”

Y/N shook her head in response as she finished her glass of whiskey that somehow appeared in her hand, “Nah. Done it a few times when I need a pick me up, but it wasn’t my thing.”

“You should take a bump, you look like shit.”

“Fuck you, I look better than your dirty ass.”

“Yeah, you do, normally. But you still look like you’re fucking dead,” he pointed as he pulled out his baggie and dropped a small dose of the powdery white substance onto the joint of his hand, “Don’t think I haven’t seen you tossing and turning. I know you hardly get any sleep and the fact that you party just as hard as we do, minus the fucking, will eventually catch up to you.”

“I don’t want to Henry,” Y/N grumbled, somewhat annoyed that he had noticed it about her.

Since she joined Mind Failure, her one goal was to excel and become good enough to make sure the guys kept her in the band. But, she also wanted to bond with them on a personal level. Although she could do that any other way, she found that staying up to party was the best way to get them to like anybody, and she was no exception, even if she was a chick. She had done her fair share of partying, but the fact of the matter was that she really was exhausted half the time.

Henry eyed her with a look of irritation, “Take the fucking bump, Y/N. You’re gonna need it and it’s not a lot, just enough to keep you awake. And then, after the set, I’m gonna give you two Zannys to get your ass to sleep like a fucking baby.”

“Whatever mom.”

“Fucking take it,” he ordered, bringing his hand up to her.

She rolled her eyes as she reluctantly snorted the powder into her nose. The feeling burned momentarily, but eventually, it began to set in and she felt wired. As if she could take on the whole fucking world.

Henry smiled as he saw the change in her. He wrapped up his baggie and pushed it back into his pocket, starting again, “That’s the only time I’m gonna hook you up, shug.”

“My hero,” she sarcastically responded as she took the bottle of whiskey from Henry, that was now half finished, and topped off her glass.

Henry playfully punched her arm and then pulled her in for a hug as he burrowed his face into the crook of her neck, “Your British fuck bag is coming.”

“Is that why you decided to snuggle up with me, asshole?”

“Kinda,” he answered as she pulled away from him and turned to find Leo making his way towards her, his guitar hanging from its strap behind him.

He planted a sloppy kiss on her, prompting a few oohs from the boys in both Death’s Design and Mind Failure. Y/N flipped them all the finger as she grabbed Leo’s crotch with her free hand, making him shiver in response and whisper in her ear, “If you don’t stop that I’m going to fuck you here in front of everyone.”

“Do it,” she challenged.

“We both know he’s not up for it,” Patrick’s nasally voice came from behind Y/N. She jumped up in surprise, irritated that he managed to sneak up on her and simultaneously insult Leo.

“Hey mate, how about you fuck off?” Leo spat in disdain as he pulled Y/N into him, throwing his left arm over her shoulders protectively… or possessively.

Patrick cackled as he took a drag from his cigarette, his black locks falling out of place and over his face, “She’s in my band, Leo. You’re gonna have to get used to the fact that she’s around me… and she’s  _always_  gonna be around me.”

Leo tensed beside her, she could feel his fists clenching as he was about to retort. But, Y/N quickly grabbed his crotch again and nibbled on his earlobe. Leo chuckled darkly, Y/N caught a small glance at his facial expression as he arrogantly slid his hand down her back and squeezed her ass tightly, “That’s true, but I’m the one that gets to fuck her.”

Patrick’s eyes darkened momentarily, as Leo continued, “Oh, I’m sorry, did I strike a nerve?”

The boys that were bustling with life moments ago were now silent as they watched the standoff between Patrick and Leo. Vic and Belch tensed, slowly and stealthily moving towards Patrick’s direction as they watched their guitarist’s expression go from dark to completely terrifying.

Henry, who was relaxed just a few moments ago, was now on his feet. Whether he planned to stop Patrick or join him, however, was a different question. She knew they shared a good friendship, but the bonds of brotherhood ran deep. And she wasn’t sure if she could trust him to hold Patrick back in favor of her.

Her heart beat loud in her ears as she watched Patrick slowly lift the lit cigarette to his lips, taking a long hard drag from it. He tossed the half-smoked butt on the ground, grinding it with his feet as he blew smoke in Leo’s direction.

Leo immediately pushed Y/N aside as he bolted forward, his right fist clenched tightly as he prepared himself to throw a punch at Patrick’s smug face. Impulsively, Y/N pushed herself in between the two men before Leo could do any damage to Patrick. Vic, Belch and Henry, pulled Patrick back as Edward and Linus, who were the closest to Leo, yanked him backwards, his guitar swung uncontrollably behind him while he spat colorful insults towards the lanky guitarist.

Patrick guffawed in response as he was being held back by the three other Mind Failure band members. She could see Vic’s lips moving as he berated Patrick for antagonizing Leo. Patrick brushed him off, walking with an air of arrogance and pausing beside Y/N as he whispered in her ear, “See you on stage, princess.”

Vic, Belch and Henry all followed behind him; Henry gave Y/N a look that said  _handle that shit_. Y/N nodded, turning towards Leo who was now cornered in the back wall by the whole of his band, Edward, Linus, Will and Ollie. He paced as he continued to hurl insults, fuming uncontrollably as Y/N made her way towards him. She pushed past the guys and placed a reassuring hand on Leo’s face, “Hey, hey it’s ok— “

“I fucking swear Y/N, one more push and I’m gonna crack his fucking head open!” He shouted.

Y/N tried her best not to roll her eyes, if anything, Patrick would be the one to crack  _his_  head open, smear his blood in his face and laugh all the while.

“Ok,” she simply said as she pulled him in, annoyed that she had to be the one to calm him. What did he expect? Patrick laid out bait for him and he bit. The best way to win with Patrick was not to play. But, Leo consistently fell into every trap that Patrick laid out for him. He made it too easy.

However, as hopped up on drugs and alcohol as she was, she didn’t voice her thoughts, knowing it would create more strife. She held him close as the boys of Death’s Design backed away to give them more privacy. She slowly pressed tiny kisses all along his neck as she whispered, “Look, if you’re gonna crack his head open, at least wait till after the set. Alright?”

Leo didn’t take too kindly to the joke, he scoffed as he pushed her away from him, glaring at her, “Is that all this is to you?  _A fucking joke_?”

Y/N groaned internally at his touchiness. She wanted to go off on him, but she also knew that it would only make things worse. When she didn’t answer, Leo continued, “You may be fine with him constantly treating you like shit and I’ve kept my mouth shut so shit doesn’t get bad for you, but I’m not going to sit back and  _allow_ that son of a bitch to disrespect me, even if you let him disrespect you.”

“What?! I don’t let him— “

“Don’t even _try_  to fucking deny it, Y/N,” he started as he lit a cigarette and took a puff, “How many times as he tried to make a move on you during shoes and interviews?”

Y/N remained silent, she turned and glanced over towards the side stage, the boys were watching the interaction with interest as she was being berated by Leo. Vic and Belch spoke silently to Henry as he stared daggers at Leo. She shot him a small smile to assure him that she could handle it. Her eyes fell on Patrick leaning casually against an amp, a cigarette in his lips while he strummed his guitar, staring at them with both amusement and tension.

Her attention turned back towards Leo, who was still glaring at her, “I can—”

“You’d better get going, you’re gonna be late for you set,” Leo said, turning and stomping towards his bandmates, showing her that the conversation was over.

Y/N rolled her eyes, frustrated that she allowed him to go off on her the way he did. She turned and made her way to the boys, silently fighting within herself and reminding her busy mind that Leo had every right to feel the way he did. Still, that didn’t stop her from feeling furious.

She ignored the greetings and questions from the other guys as she snatched the cigarette out of Patrick’s mouth and threw her guitar strap over her shoulder, placing her fingers on the frets as she began to shred the strings.

Vic, Belch and Henry all stayed back to give her space, talking amongst themselves as they shared a bottle of beer.

“You look pissed off, princess.”

“Fuck off, Patrick. This shit started because of you,” she retorted, taking a long drag of the cigarette as he snatched it back from her. Her Y/E/C eyes burned with rage as he gazed smugly towards her.

He shrugged as he took a few small steps towards her, “Don’t act like you despise it. You play along all the time, shug… if anything, I think you like it.”

Y/N glanced at him with a bored expression, “Like I said before, you’re fucking delusional if you think I  _like_  anything you do. You’re an asshole that likes to fuck with people, at least when I’m an asshole, I’m up front about it.”

“Are you though?” he asked with a bemused expression. Her brows knitted as she glanced at him suspiciously. He smirked slyly, taking a drag from the cigarette and placing it back on Y/N’s lips. He suddenly reached into his pocket, pulling out a baggie like Henry’s, just slightly fuller. He poured some of the powdery substance onto the back of his hand, holding it out to her, she glanced down at the dust on the crook of his hand. His grey green eyes twinkled as he expectantly waited for her to take her bump; the amount on his own hand wasn’t a small amount to just keep her awake the way Henry’s was, it was larger, this was supposed to really wire her and keep her going for days straight if she wanted.

The powder looked succulent on his tattooed hand and she felt the urge to just touch him. Everything inside of her told her to walk onto the stage after Belch, or to go to Henry and Vic who were bitching about something else now.

 _Fuck it_ , she thought as she grabbed his cool hand in hers. She covered her right nostril and deeply inhaled the harsh drug, feeling the burning sensation once again making her call out as she wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

He grinned roguishly at her, pouring one out for himself and inhaling it like it was second nature. He twisted the baggie up and stuffed it back into his pocket as he chuckled and brought his guitar up, playing a loud riff that echoed throughout the show room, making the crowd outside scream in response. His eyes locked on hers as he grabbed her chin in his hands, speaking quietly in a smooth, silky voice, “Sugar of the gods, just like you.”

She furrowed her brows in confusion, but before she could press the matter further, he turned and snatched the beer from Vic’s hands.

She followed behind him as he strutted onstage, taking a long drink of beer with that calm, cool and terrifying confidence he had. He tossed to bottle to the crowd somewhere, wondering if it hit someone on the head since she didn’t hear it shatter. Then again, the crowd cheered loudly drowning out every other sound except for Patrick’ leads and Y/N’s rhythmic following, both coinciding perfectly as he spat the beer in the crowd, bathing them in his spit and watered-down alcohol, driving the crowd into a frenzy.

Henry came up beside her, licking her cheek as he strummed his bass guitar with his calloused fingers while Vic followed behind, his vocals filling the crowded room. The people in the crowd jumped up and down, moshing and thrashing amongst each other as the sounds of Mind Failure’s music echoed around them.

In that moment, Y/N felt the coke kick in further. And she stalked across the stage, interacting with the crowd and shouting out obscenities towards them. And somehow, they loved it. They egged her on, urging her to continue her onstage antics while she jumped off the stage and headed towards the crowd. Immediately, the security detail huddled around her as she walked through the wild, screaming fans with their phones held out while they tried to touch her.

She allowed some of them to get close and plant kisses on her, even handing one of them her wristband.

The crowd suddenly went berserk and she felt the end of a guitar poke her back. She turned and glanced at Patrick who blew her a kiss, followed by Henry who was head banging with a few ladies in the crowd, and Vic, who decided to toss himself into the crowd and surf.

The music that Patrick put together came to her as if it was second nature, and she felt completely alive with Patrick by her side. Their eyes locked, and suddenly, it was just them alone in the large room, both in sync with one another and the music brought them closer as they harmonized the notes, their fingers sweeping across the necks of their guitars in tune with each other, it was almost as if they were both one.

Just as quickly as it started, it was soon finished, and she was staring longingly into the grey green eyes of Patrick Hockstetter, as he stared back at her with the same expression she had plastered on her face, their breathing heavy as their eyes fell on each other’s lips. She was filled with the unsatiable desire to lean in and press her lips against his. But, Belch’s voice filled the air as he started from behind his drum set, “Must be nice to be mobile during your set. How ‘bout you get your asses back up here, ya dicks?”

Y/N broke her eyes away from Patrick, their own private bubble bursted as she realized that they weren’t alone, but in a room full of people. She coughed quietly to herself, and from the corner of her eye, she saw him smirk and lick his lips at her. She, along with the rest of Mind Failure, took a few selfies with the fans in the crowd until they were escorted back on stage.

She waltzed over to her side of the stage, reaching for a water bottle on the floor by the side stage and taking a long drink from the cool contents inside. Leo, surprisingly, was standing there, staring at her with a puzzling look while his bandmates all chattered amongst each other.

To her left, Vic, as usual, began to interact with the crowd, until abruptly, she was pulled back and for a moment, she stared into the grey green eyes of Patrick Hockstetter as he smiled and then hastily pressed his lips on her.

She should have fought him. She normally would have, but this time, her hands came up to stroke his cheekbone as her lips parted and she kissed him back, feeling the thumping in her heart grow louder and louder. She thought it would be sloppy, and messy, the way Patrick’s kisses with his groupies usually were, but this kiss wasn’t like the others, she felt the longing and yearning for her emanating from him as his hands gently carded their way through her sweat drenched hair. For someone cold and cruel, he was surprisingly tender, and it filled Y/N with a need to kiss him more.

It was almost like a dream; a dream that she didn’t want to wake up from. The kiss intensified as her hands grasped the front of his shirt and pulled him closesr to her, his body warm against hers, grinding his crotch against her. She felt the burning between her thighs as she longed for him; and then it was all over when she came back to reality, a harsh shout reaching her as Patrick quickly pulled away, his eyes wild and his breathing heavy for a moment. It was all gone when he glanced at the person coming up behind her, smiling widely as Leo swung his fist at him, landing a hard-right hook on his nose.

Henry was the first to jump into Patrick’s defense, tossing his bass guitar onto the hard floor as he ran towards Leo and punched him hard on the jaw, making him stumble backwards.

Then, all hell broke loose as Leo’s band mates rushed on stage and collided with Vic, Henry, Patrick and Belch, who pushed his drum set, the cymbals and snares clattering on the ground as he jumped over and shoved Edward off of Vic. Ollie was on top of Henry’s back, trying to pull him off of Linus; without much thought, Y/N threw her guitar behind her and pulled Ollie off of Henry.

She snarled as the skinny man sunk his teeth into her forearm, prompting her to squeeze her forearm and put Ollie in a chokehold as they fell on the ground. She clenched her teeth at the pain in her back from landing on top of her guitar, to her right, she watched as Leo slammed a cymbal onto Patrick’s back.

Something clicked inside her, and she released her hold on Ollie, pushing him off her and landing a solid kick to his face with her boot. She swiftly turned and jumped on top of Leo’s back. He swiveled in confusion while Patrick laid on the ground laughing wildly, his nose seeping with blood.

Leo growled, swiveling sharply, making Y/N lose her hold on him as he tossed her on the ground. She fell on her back, her head hitting the hard wood of her own guitar. He raised his fist to punch her, but paused upon realizing whom he was staring down at, his dark eyes locked on her and his brows furrowed in confusion, “What— “

Whatever he was about to say was cut off as he was tossed on the ground by security. They held him down while police officers entered the building and slapped cuffs on him, as well as everybody else on the stage.

Henry shouted out curse word after curse word, calling out the cops and antagonizing them the way he usually did. Vic and Belch did not resist their arrest, instead glaring hatefully at Patrick who had his eyes locked on Y/N, still laughing maniacally even as the officer on his back slapped the cuffs on him.

She watched as he was pulled onto his feet and dragged out of the building, still cackling as blood trailed down his nose and face.

She was pushed forward; a police officer spoke to her while he locked his cuffs on her. But his words were far and distant as she focused on Leo who was being dragged out of the building too, a look of betrayal plastered over his eyes, making her realize amidst the drugs and alcohol, that she fucked up.


	9. Because the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Drug use, alcohol use, sexual content, some homophobic slurs, language, sexism, slut shaming. Etc. 
> 
> A/N: I have returned bitches! I am aware that this took a few months to get up, but, momma hasn’t been doing to well lately. However, things are starting to look up and I hope that I can get back into the groove of things. Hope you all enjoy this, I know it’s been too long. Anywho, I recommend you listen to Because the Night by Patti Smith, as this chapter was heavily inspired by that song. Listen to it.

“You just fucking had to do it, didn’t you? Why couldn’t you just keep your fucking hands to yourself for once?!” she shouted, her voice echoing in the cells. It was unusual to have her in the cell with men, normally, she would have been placed in the holding cells with the other women, but the members of Mind Failure were all stuck in the same tank, alone (thanks to their rock star status and the best lawyers money could afford) which made berating Patrick a lot easier.

She glanced at him, fuming and feeling her rage rise at his smug expression, the blood caked on his face was peeling off in tiny flakes as he smiled and began to hum the tune of an unknown song.

“Stop fucking smiling, this isn’t funny!”

“Oh, but it is,” Patrick replied, as he leaned against the hard wall casually, “I mean, look at how worked up you are.”

“Because you started this shit!”

“Correction, your fucking boyfriend started it, if he had just minded his own business–”

“Minded his own business? Are you fucking insane? What the hell–”

“For fucks sake, Y/N, shut the fuck up,” Vic groaned, massaging his head.

Y/N glanced at him in surprise, her rage redirected at the blonde-haired man that was standing at the edge of the cell, his head bowed down against the bars, “Excuse the fuck out of me, Twink, but don’t fucking tell me to shut up–”

“Watch who you call Twink, princess, or Patrick won’t be the only one that you’ll have to worry about,” Vic threatened.

“What? You want a fucking piece?” Y/N started, tensing up as she readied herself for a fight in the middle of the cell.

“If it’ll get you to shut the fuck up then let’s go, baby girl,” he casually said as he strolled towards her. His breath was hot on her face as he eyed her.

In moments, Belch was between them, grabbing hold of Vic’s shoulder as Henry came up behind Y/N, “Now’s not the time, guys. Johnny Ray will be posting bail soon, we can handle this later.”

“I always have your back with shit, hon, you know that. But we’re already in fucking jail, and now is not the time for your bitching. So, you need to shut your mouth and watch who you call a Twink, otherwise I’ll—”

“You’ll do what to her,  _Twink_? Huh? You gonna scratch her fucking eyes out like the little bitch that you are.”

“Bitch, I might. And while I’m at it, I’ll scratch yours out too you fucking heathen.”

“That’s enough!” Belch shouted, startling the trio. The silence that followed deafened the room, the only sound coming from Patrick as he continued to sing the lyrics of an unknown song, “Can it, Hockstetter!”

Y/N turned to glance at Patrick, whose grey green eyes continued to bore into her like sharp daggers. He paused mid-sentence, slyly leaning his elbows on his knees as he smiled, “Why? Are all of you going to fight me if I don’t? Hm?”

Belch tensed beside her, “Shut your mouth, now. Or I’ll make sure Johnny Ray doesn’t bail your ass out.”

Patrick smirked as he rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, lazily getting to his feet, he glanced out of the cell and smiled. Y/N, along with the rest of the boys, turned their attention to the officer and the man in the suit making their way to the tank.

Vic was the first one to speak up as the guard unlocked the cell, “I assume we’re free to go?”

“For now,” the officer answered with an edge of irritation.

Once the cell was unlocked, the officer left them alone with who she assumed was their lawyer, who started, “Johnny Ray wants you guys to call him as soon as you possibly can. You really got into it this time, and since they found drugs on you, you might have to pay a heavy fine. I swear working for you guys is a full-time job—”

“Yeah but you get paid well for it,” Henry interjected, “No jail?”

“Is there ever any jail?” he retorted, coughing awkwardly when Henry gave him a warning look, “What I mean is that there will be no jail time, however, you are all going to be taking a drug and alcohol class, along with anger management classes throughout the duration of the tour.”

“What the fuck? How? Why?”

“Because you have a heavy drug and alcohol problem, and the fights are getting out of control. Johnny Ray will have more details on that, my job here is done, now, I gotta go and get the other guys out.”

“Wait,” Patrick said, pushing past the small group and coming face to face with the lawyer, “Why the fuck is Johnny Ray bailing them out?”

“I don’t ask specifics Mr. Hockstetter, I just do what I’m told.”

“Don’t bail them out,” Patrick ordered.

“What?” Y/N started, grabbing Patrick’s shoulder and turning him to face her, “Why the fuck not? You think you’re the only one that’s allowed to get away with shit?”

“No, but they started it,” he smiled.

“Are you seriously telling me that again? What are you, five?”

Patrick laughed, “I can show you I’m not five, if you’ve forgotten. Though, I doubt you have.”

He thrusted his crotch at her making Y/N roll her eyes in frustration.

“If you guys are done, I’d love to get the hell out of here,” Vic groaned, “I need a shower. And some dick. Or pussy. Whichever.”

“I got dick for you,” Patrick winked as he led the way out of the cell, ignoring the lawyer that had already marched down the hall towards the tank with Death’s Design’s band members. Unlike Mind Failure however, they did not have the luxury of having a cell for themselves as they were tossed in a tank with other violent, angry drunks.

Y/N hurried into a quick walk, waltzing past Patrick and the boys as her eyes scanned the boys that exited the cell. She waited for Leo to emerge from the crowded tank, and she rushed towards the open cell door to greet him, her hand falling on his elbow, “Leo—”

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he growled, not even turning to meet her outraged glare.

She shivered in anger as Patrick came up beside her, “See what you did?!”

Patrick, however, simply shrugged and continued as the rest of the boys followed him, strutting along as he lit a cigarette in the building.

_Entitled bastard._

She stood in the middle of the hall momentarily, placing her hands on her hips, her brows furrowed as she glanced after them, after Patrick and his smug sense of accomplishment.

The whistles and catcalls from the tank pulled her out of her stupor, and she flipped the sexually deprived men the bird as she adjusted her jacket and fell in step after Mind Failure.

 

* * *

 

The ride back to the tour bus was loud, as it normally was. The boys went on about kicking Death’s Design off the tour, and how they would need to find a new opening act.

Surprisingly, Patrick was silent the whole time as well while Henry went on about replacing Death’s Design with a local band from Houston.

She lost interest in the shit Henry was talking, feeling shivers go down her spine, knowing full well why. She could feel his eyes lingering on her from the very back of the large caravan.

She glanced at him from the rear view mirror, the glow of a lit joint illuminated his face in a soft, orange light. His eyes were fixed on her, and he smiled as he inhaled deeply, “Why kick them off? I say we keep ‘em.”

The boys, including Y/N, turned to face Patrick with shock on their faces. But Y/N could guess why he wanted to keep them on, “Why? So you could keep starting shit with them?”

He smiled widely as he handed the joint over to Henry, “It’s fun.”

“You think it’s fun that Johnny Ray keeps having to bail us out?!” Belch shouted, fed up with Patrick’s antics, “He just fucking texted me and told me that the label is seriously considering dropping us!”

“You know they won’t.”

“They fucking will,” Vic agreed, “They’re getting tired of this shit.”

Patrick’s smile dropped from his face as his eyes narrowed. Vic stared back at him as he continued, “What? You think you’re untouchable Hockstetter? You think everyone’s going to take your shit the way we have?!”

If he was angry, he didn’t show it. All Patrick did was lean forward slowly, putting the boys on edge, and plucked the joint from Henry’s lips as he brought it back to his own, “I’ll handle it.”

“Your cockiness has gotten us far, Hockstetter, but I seriously doubt you understand how grave this situation–”

“I said, I’ll fucking handle it, Criss. All of you, shut your bitch mouths so I can get some quiet before I burn this fucking car to the ground.”

Normally, Vic would have kept bitching, followed by Belch. But this time was different. Y/N’s brows furrowed as she watched Vic turn in his seat and cross his arms as he pouted like a child scorned.

She glanced back at Patrick, who’s eyes were not on her anymore, but staring into a blank space in the corner of the dark SUV. When his eyes finally did meet hers, she quickly looked away, feeling uneasy and tense.

The silence that followed was even worse than the boys bitching. She wished they would say something and start fighting, because the silence that Patrick demanded was far more unsettling than she would have liked, and the fact that he made a demand that was followed without pushback was disturbing.

It made her wonder what the hell Patrick Hockstetter had up his sleeve. She peeked a glance in his direction once more, watching in fascination as he laid back against the seat, sprawling his legs and arms out across the long seat he had to himself, his head hung over the edge. Her eyes fell on his lips, the way his fingers held on to the joint, so steadily as he puffed on it with plump lips.

Y/N’s thoughts went to the kiss she shared with him on the stage, and she couldn’t help but feel a shivering sensation course through her body. She turned back in her seat, outraged that she felt sexually charged and attracted to the asshole that, yet again, caused a fight between not only her and Leo, but two bands in the tour.

_This was supposed to be about music_ , she thought, frustrated that she had gotten into a relationship too soon.

She had always been known for her impulsive nature, but this took the cake. She had promised herself that the next guy she dated, it would be better. And maybe it would be… if Patrick would stop fucking with her.

Y/N sighed heavily as she leaned her head on Henry’s shoulder, who simply tossed his arm around her and pressed a gentle kiss on the crown of her head. He rubbed her arm with his strong hand, his voice heavy with disdain as he started, “Pay no mind to that fucking asshole, he’s just pissed that he got his ass kicked.”

“He’s pissed about what this one did,” she motioned towards Patrick with her head in a low whisper.

“Pat does what he does, everyone knows that. Fucker’s a pussy if he’s putting the blame on you like that, and honestly shug, you don’t need that shit right now. What you need, is a good couple shots of whiskey and that Zanny I promised you,” he said as he lit a cigarette, taking a long drag and exhaling deeply.

“Okay,” she agreed, snuggling closer into Henry, making him tense a little. She knew how he felt about touch, it was obvious, being that they both had similar upbringings and endured the same experiences at the hands of others, but right now, all she needed was the warm embrace of someone that loved her. And Henry could give her that right now, even though she wished it was someone else, she closed her eyes and imagined that it was him instead.

She kept her eyes closed for the rest of the ride, breathing in the scent of sweat, beer and fading deodorant until the van came to a stop and Henry gently smacked her thigh, “C’mon shug, you need to get to bed.”

“I thought Vic was supposed the be the mom here, Hen,” she started as she dragged herself out of the van and jumped over Henry, she yelped as she felt the sting of his hand on her ass as she hurried out of the van and rubbed her behind, “What the fuck?!”

“Couldn’t help it,” Henry smirked as he jumped out of the vehicle and pulled her into his arms, “It was there in my face and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t nice, shug.”

“You still can’t get it, Bowers,” Y/N spat, shoving him away from her as she stomped towards the tour bus after Belch and Vic, vaguely paying attention to the large group of men and women being held back by security at their arrival.

Henry hollered at the crowd, “WHICH ONE OF YOU WANTS THIS DICK TONIGHT?!”

A surprisingly large number of women shouted from the group, and he chuckled as he caught up to her and threw his arm around her shoulders, making her roll her eyes and pout, “Give it a few weeks of being sexually frustrated and trust me, you’ll come to me  _and_  on me.”

“You’re a fucking pig,” she said as she shoved him, trying to suppress her smile as he pulled her back in for another hug, “Why waste your time here, Henry, when you have a crowd of girls over there that would be dying to feel your cock inside of them?”

“Cause this hard to get shit is kinda turning me on,” he joked as he pulled her in and dragged his tongue along her cheek, snapping a selfie as he did so.

“Careful Bowers, if Donovan sees that, another brawl is gonna break out and Vic’s gonna be bitching about it, as well as princess sugar tits,” Patrick’s voice boomed from behind them.

“Donovan knows not to fuck with me,” Henry retorted as he threw his other arm around Patrick’s shoulders.

“He might, if it meant that you were moving in on his piece of ass, but it’s not like he’d do much anyways,” Patrick insulted as he lit another joint. He took a long puff from it before placing it in Henry’s slightly agape mouth, “He hits like a bitch.”

Y/N cackled at Patrick’s statement, making both men look at her in confusion, “Yes, that’s why you were on the ground like a hopeless dumbass while Leo beat the shit out of you. The only reason why you even had a fighting chance is because Henry jumped in for you.”

“Just Henry?”

His grey green eyes locked onto hers as he shook free from Henry’s grasp and jumped in front of her. She bumped into him then, growling when he refused to move, “Move, Hockstetter.”

Henry sighed beside her, “Move your fucking ass, twig, before I knock your sorry ass out.”

Patrick ignored him as he stared directly into Y/N’s eyes again, smirking slyly as he spoke, “And you didn’t jump on top of Leo?”

“I didn’t want him to get arrested.”

“Sure.”

“Guys!” Vic called.

Y/N and Henry both glanced up in his direction, but she could still feel Patrick’s eyes on her as Vic spoke, “Get your asses in here, Johnny Ray is on a call with us!”

Henry pulled Y/N along with him, leaving Patrick to follow along behind them with a wide smile plastered across his face. Y/N rolled her eyes, annoyed that he caught what she did during the fight.

_How does this fucker notice everything?_

“How bad is it?” Henry asked as he ascended the steps into the bus, followed by Y/N and then Patrick, the sounds of the screaming men and women booming in their ears as Vic shrugged, Vic moved aside as he allowed Henry and Y/N entry into the tour bus, “How bad is it?”

Vic shrugged as he moved aside to let them in, “We’re trying to work things out right now, but so far, it’s not looking so good.”

Y/N’s eyes fell on Blech, who was sitting on the couch with his phone held out in front of him as Johnny Ray’s voice boomed from the other end, “… And Tristan Roberts is wondering if maybe this whole rock star lifestyle is even worth keeping you guys on, considering the amount of money it requires to bail you guys out—”

“Henry, Pat and Y/N are here,” Belch interrupted as he caught them inside the bus. Vic closed the door shut behind them and motioned for them to sit next to Belch on the couch.

“Good,” Johnny Ray started, as Y/N plopped down next to Belch and Henry. Vic sat on Belch’s other side while Patrick went straight for the liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Vodka, “So, now that you’re all here, wanna tell me what the fuck happened?”

“Hockstetter thought it would be a good idea to make out with Y/N onstage,” Henry answered as he leaned back on the couch.

“And?” Johnny Ray asked, his brows furrowing in confusion as if this behavior was the norm.

“And Y/N is dating Leo Donovan from Death’s Design,” Vic finished.

“Oh, he got jealous. Well, fact of the matter is that you guys are on really thin ice here, not to mention the fact that—as I was telling Reggie and Vic, Tristan Roberts is considering pulling your contract since you guys are costing more money—”

“Remind Tristan of our deal,” Patrick called, prompting the room to become silent as all eyes fell on him. Belch turned the phone to face Patrick as he turned with the bottle of Vodka in his hand and a glass in the other, pouring the clear liquor in, “You haven’t forgotten what we’re capable of, have you Johnny Ray?”

Y/N’s brows furrowed as she glanced at Patrick, then Johnny Ray who suddenly became flustered, “Of course not. That doesn’t mean that Tristan—”

“Go ahead and remind Tristan, that if he pulls our contract, that means that I will also be forced to resort to drastic measures, and he wouldn’t want that would he?”

“Patrick, I don’t think—”

“Either you tell him, Johnny, or I will. And trust me,” he said, his voice a deep growl with a smirk across his lips as he moved closer to the phone. The sight of his grey green eyes glowing with malice made the group uneasy. Even Johnny Ray, who was miles away on the other end of the phone was suddenly tense as Patrick continued, “I won’t be as courteous as you, get it done, or I will.”

All eyes were on Johnny Ray now as the swallowed hard and nodded nervously, “I’ll—I’ll get it done. But as for Death’s Design—”

“They’re staying on the tour, end of discussion.”

“But—”

Patrick shot a glance at Johnny Ray once more, “End of discussion.”

Johnny Ray nodded, defeated and looking smaller than he did before he spoke to Patrick, “They’ll stay on the tour then.”

Y/N furrowed her brows, eyeing Patrick as the boys continued the conversation with Johnny Ray. Henry was the most vocal, objecting to Patrick’s orders that Death’s Design stay on the tour. She narrowed her eyes, watching as Patrick picked up the bottle of vodka and headed towards the bunks.

Instinctively, she jumped to her feet and followed him, pushing the door open and catching him as he scrawled along an old, open journal with the pages frayed and papers stuffed inside making it thicker than what it was supposed to be.

She slammed the door shut behind her as she eyed him suspiciously, “What the hell was that about?”

“What?” he asked, unfazed as his hand flew across the pages, leaving behind words in their wake.

“You know exactly what,” Y/N spat, crossing the distance and closing the gap between them.

Patrick chuckled as he took a drink from his glass of vodka. He shut the journal in front of him and pushed the pen into the pockets of his jeans, smirking as he turned to face her, the blood that was caked on his face almost gone as he roughly tried to wipe off the flakes, “You know, princess, I never pegged you as someone that liked to play mind games, I always thought they were beneath you… or that you couldn’t keep up.”

“I can keep up with your mind games,” she retorted, slightly insulted that he dared to belittle her intelligence.

“Then you should be able to figure it out, shug,” she smiled, grabbing hold of his guitar and shoving the journal into the waistband of his jeans.

She scoffed, watching him as he casually waltzed out of the room, “For the record, I know you sent Leo that blog about my sexual history.”

“I did.”

“You won’t even deny it?”

“Why? Not like there’s anything wrong with that, besides, he has a right to know how many people you’ve fucked, don’t you think? I think it’s important that two people in strong, stable relationship share these things,” he leered, his brows furrowed as a sly smile crossed his lips.

She had to admit, he looked fucking sexy when he smiled like that.

Y/N shook her head in frustration that now she would think he was attractive, and she stomped towards him in anger, grabbing his shirt from the collar and yanking him back from the door. She stood in front of it, blocking his way out of the dorms, “Oh don’t pretend that you did that because you care about my relationship Patrick—”

“But I  _do_ care.”

“No, you fucking don’t. You don’t fucking give a damn about anyone but yourself. You know it. I know it. The whole world knows it. You just love to make people miserable, and you love to push people, that’s why you sent Leo that blog and that’s why you kissed me tonight,” she spat, still angry at herself for wanting to touch him.

He tilted his head as he slowly glided towards her. Y/N gulped quietly when his face was a mere inch from hers, his breathing was light as his eyes scanned her face and traced her lips. He licked his own as he smiled, and he leaned down as he whispered, “Funny thing though, princess, is that I don’t think you hated the kiss as much as you pretend to.”

Y/N scoffed, but before she could retort, he jerked the door open, gently, he pushed her aside and slid out of the room, leaving Y/N to stare after him stupidly, wondering how the hell he knew her better than she knew herself.

He’s a fucking prick, she told herself as she reached into her pocket and pulled her phone out. She sighed heavily, disappointed that her messages to Leo were left on read.

**Y/N 12:34 A.M.** : Leo, please talk to me. I’m sorry.

“Pining over fuckface?”

“I’m not pining,” Y/N retorted as Henry handed her two pills and a bottle of water, “The fuck is this?”

“Sleep, now.”

“Henry, now’s not the—”

“I don’t wanna hear how now’s not the time to sleep, shug. Leo can fucking wait a night; besides, it won’t hurt you to get some fucking sleep. You really do look like shit,” he said as he pulled her into his arms, slightly tensing at the touch of tenderness.

“You’re such a charmer with the ladies, Bowers,” Y/N mocked, sighing heavily and leaning her head on Henry’s chest.

“Bitches love a man that tells them the truth,” he said, pulling away and leading her towards her bunk.

“Am I bitch to you, Bowers?” Y/N asked him as she pulled herself up onto her bunk, already beginning to feel the aches of the fight. Henry grabbed a handful of her ass and pushed her onto the thin mattress, watching her as she made herself comfortable.

“Yes,” he answered, prompting Y/N to kick him on the arm with her boot as she pushed them off her feet and laid back on her pillow, sighing heavily and staring up at the dark ceiling of her bunk, “Take the fucking pills, get some rest, you can dominate the world tomorrow and have some shots with me while you’re at it.”

He rubbed her head roughly with his hand, like a big brother would to his little sister. She rolled her eyes as she popped the pills in her mouth and washed them down with water. Henry motioned to her mouth, and she opened it as wide as she could to show him that she did swallow them.

“Henry,” Y/N started as Henry dimmed down the lights in the room, “Why is Johnny Ray so scared of Patrick? And what the hell was all that talk during the call?”

Henry exhaled deeply and pursed his lips, “Y/N, I told you all I could about the matter. Patrick is my brother, and if he doesn’t want you to know, then you won’t know. It’s better this way. One day, if he wants to, he can tell you what’s up. But in the meantime, get your ass to sleep shug.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and nodded. He turned and closed the door behind him, minutes later, loud music began to play from the speakers in the lounge followed by the laughter of a gaggle of men and women. She sighed heavily, staring at the ceiling and waiting for sleep to claim her.

It was moments away, the tendrils of exhaustion were wrapping themselves around her tired, bruised body as her breathing slowed and her eyes slowly drifted shut, in all that darkness, in her exhaustion, all she could think about was him… Patrick motherfucking Hockstetter.

 

* * *

 

For the fifth time in the past hour, Y/N glanced down at her phone once more, ignoring the breakfast in front of her as Vic and Belch debated the hot topic of what would be on the next album.

The excitement was clear as the boys discussed going into the studio once more, Vic, apparently, had been wanting to try something new vocally. Belch was stoked to go back into the studio, Henry was indifferent… and Patrick was Patrick about it.

The man was a nutcase, he was an asshole, but when it came down to music, he knew his shit. Of course, this was nothing new as he was considered the artist of a generation, a legend in the making, so to speak. There was no excitement in his tone of voice, there was conviction, stoicism, a sense of duty and care in his work as he explained his idea for the new album and how he had half the songs done and was in the process of finishing up the rest.

And, she was officially integrated into the band. She as a part of them, which meant that the new studio venture was going to include her. She should have been excited, normally, she would have been. Especially since the scare that happened a few nights ago was nothing but words from Tristan, as he personally called the band to apologize for his crude behavior. Mind Failure was safe.

It was strange, that the CEO of the company was apologizing to the band, and she would have questioned it on any other day… but right now, she was preoccupied with Leo.

It had been three days since the incident in New Mexico. Three days since he texted or called, three days that he spent deliberately ignoring her and leaving her messages on read.

_Three. Fucking. Days._

She wasn’t the type to beg, she wasn’t the type to wait and stare at her phone all day waiting for some asshole to text her. That wasn’t her style anymore. After all the bullshit she endured, she refused to make herself look like an idiot for anything with a dick or pussy and in between.

Still, here she was, staring at her phone and scrolling through Leo’s Instagram posts to see what the hell he was up to and why he hadn’t bothered to message her.

_What the fuck am I doing?_

Frustrated, she locked her phone and stuffed into the pockets of her shorts, groaning silently to herself as her eyes focused on the spinning ceiling fan above them, spinning around slowly, squeaking slightly.

_He’s a dick_ , she thought, _he’s acting like a fucking bitch. I should treat him like a bitch, since he wants to be one._

“Y/N?”

“Huh?” she asked dumbly as she tore her eyes from the ceiling fan and met Vic’s worried glance, waiting for her to answer, “What?”

“We’re talking about the new album… we’re thinking of heading into the studio a month or two after the tour. What do you think?”

“Does it matter?” she asked, scoffing as she bit into a strip of bacon, “We all know that we’re gonna go based on Daddy Long Leg’s word anyways.”

“I love when you call me daddy,” Patrick winked as he leaned back in his chair, licking his lips as he did so.

Y/N flipped him off as she leaned forward, reluctantly taking a sip of the tall glass of water she had ordered.

“That’s not always true, Y/N,” Vic retorted trying to keep his patience.

“It isn’t?”

“What the shits up with you, shug?” Henry asked with an edge of irritation as he stuffed a mouthful of eggs into his mouth.

“Nothing’s up with me—”

“I call bullshit,” he said, “You’ve been a moody bitch since the fight with that twat face and his band. Don’t think we haven’t noticed that the piece of shit has been ignoring you.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at Henry as she ignored Patrick’s piercing gaze. She knew the whole thing amused him, in fact, it was almost as if the son of a bitch thrived on it, and right now she didn’t want to deal with his shit, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Point is shug,” Henry said, “Just cause he’s bein’ a bitch to you, don’t mean you gotta bring that shit around here and be a bitch to us. We got nothin’ to do with your drama, in fact, that’s what you get for dating a pussy ass bitch like him.”

“Oh, and I’d be better off dating one of you fuckers?”

“Is that what you want, princess?” Patrick asked as he lit a cigarette and ran his hand through his greasy unkept hair.

“Fuck no!”

“All I’m saying is that you don’t strike me as the type to let some fuckface drag you along like this, he’s being a bitch, fine, let him be a bitch and you do you,” Henry said, cutting off Patrick before he could say something perverted and out of line, “Quit your fucking moodiness and answer the fucking question.”

Y/N sighed with irritation, feeling slightly defeated. He was right, of course he was right, “One month.”

“One month it is then,” Patrick agreed, nodding gently as he flashed a half smile in Y/N’s direction. He turned his attention back to Vic as the continued, “As far as vocals go, you’re right, I want to try something else on this album.”

Vic groaned, “What the hell, Patrick? You know I just said—”

“And you know that’s not how this shit works,” Patrick reminded him as he flicked ashes of his cigarette on the floor of the restaurant, ignoring the glares from the waiting staff and other patrons, “The last time I tried to give you guys some creative freedom, these assholes,” he paused, motioning to Belch and Henry, “Created a fucking disaster. You do what I tell you, and that’s that.”

Vic pouted as he poked his eggs with a fork grumpily, prompting Belch to cough and start, “You normally have material written in advance for the next album, why’s this process slow?”

“I’m taking a couple of things into consideration; I’m conducting an experiment of sorts.”

“You changing up the sound?” Henry asked, tiny pieces of chewed up egg flying out of his mouth and onto the table as he did so.

“I got something in mind,” he answered, vaguely, his eyes falling back on Y/N as he took a deep drag from his cigarette, “We’ll see how it works out.”

Y/N ignored him, and shrugged, finally scarfing down the delicious breakfast of bacon, eggs and French toast in front of her, feeling slightly better now that Leo was just a shadow in the back of her mind.

For the first time in weeks, she felt at ease with these four boys around her, even though they continued to argue and nag about the next album and what was to be included in it. It was strange, the attachments she formed with the boys since she joined. She had never grown close to any of her previous band mates, she always told herself that they were stepping stones.

She was too good to be associated with them.

But these boys, as fucked up and frustrating as they could be, were her family now. They were the pieces of the puzzle of her life that were missing, and while at first they clashed, they found that the pieces fit perfectly together, and she was one of them.

Maybe I don’t need Leo, she thought, staring individually at the boys around her, still bickering and throwing food at one another like small children, I don’t need Leo.

_All I need is right here with me._

“I still think that having Y/N naked on the album cover would definitely help with sales on the next one,” Henry shrugged, winking at Y/N, “How about it shug? Willing to strip for a cause?”

_And there it is._

“Only if you’re beside me with assless chaps and cowboy boots, shug,” she said, taking a drink of water.

“For you, I might,” he smiled, leaning over the table and stabbing her last piece of French toast with his fork, hastily stuffing it into his mouth as he laughed loudly, snorting in the process.

“You’re fucking disgusting, Bowers.”

 

* * *

 

Three days turned to seven days. Life went on and the bands continued to tour together in disdain. Death’s Design still refused to speak to any of the members of Mind Failure, not like the boys gave a shit anyways, they should have been happy to even be on tour with the best band in the world.

Leo continued to ignore her, and she found that not giving a shit about Leo and his sulking bitch ass was liberating. Relationships were too much work, work that she wasn’t sure she wanted to put in.

Many fan sites have begun gossiping about what happened and what led up to it, and one thing remained consistent,  _Y/N is fucking Patrick Hockstetter. Y/N is cheating on Leo Donovan with Patrick._

All that bullshit tearing her down and taking everything at surface value instead of taking the time to figure out what happened. Not like it mattered, anytime Patrick was asked questions about what happened, he causally deflected it and licked his lips as he glanced in Y/N’s direction, answering in a seductive voice, “We’re all just having some fun.”

Anytime she was asked about it, she shrugged, refusing to comment if only because it meant that explaining herself would mean that she was wrong. And she wasn’t wrong in anything.

The one that did it though, was an article breaking down the stage brawl. From the moment that Y/N and Patrick weaved through the crowd, in sync with one another right down to the end, when Leo stared at Y/N in disbelief, as if he was betrayed.

_She chose Patrick over Leo, what kind of girlfriend does that?_

_One who doesn’t give a shit about her boyfriend._

_So then why is she dating him?_

_She’s looking for attention. She doesn’t want to be alone. She’s a slut. Look at her sexual historyshesafuckingwhoreSLUTWHORESLUTWHORE!_

She shook her head, chasing the opinions and comments of anonymous users away from her mind. She took a long drag from her cigarette, simultaneously taking a long drink from the bottle of whiskey in her hand as the boys’ people around her yelled and sang along with Metallica playing in the background.

Her eyes fell on the girl with the raven black hair on her knees in front of her, licking her lips seductively as she spread Y/N’s legs open, teasing her as he glided her wet tongue along the skin of her thigh. She felt the pulsating grow between her legs at the feeling that this stranger could offer her.

This beautiful, raven haired woman with caramel colored skin and big, round chocolate eyes.

_What was her name?_

She didn’t know.

The girls manicured nails slowly glided up to the button of Y/N’s denim shorts. The touch felt amazing, but still, she found her eyes falling on the lanky haired musician in the corner, who was refilling his cup with a mixture of vodka, rum and whiskey.

Her eyes narrowed as she made out the patterns of colors and designs underneath his sleeveless shirt. His shaggy hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and his fingers moved with grace and ease as he continued to pour a variety of liquor into one cup.

The woman’s hands were now inside of her shorts, her fingers slowly reaching down and making her groan as she pressed down on her sensitive bud.

“Stop,” she ordered as she felt the vibration in her pocket. The woman pouted, and Y/N pushed her off her and fastened her shorts back on as she read the text message on her screen.

She wasn’t sure what to make of it, except that a few days ago, it would have made her happy. Right now, she didn’t feel a thing.

**Leo 1:05 AM:** Can we talk?

**Y/N 1:05 AM:**  Now?

Her eyes remained glued on the screen as she saw the text bubble pop up, and then the swoosh of a message that came in.

**Leo 1:06 AM:**  yea, wanna meet with me?

Y/N glanced at the boys around her, all of them preoccupied with their current conquests, apart from Patrick, who was now gone to god knows where.

She knew what the boys would say if she told them that Leo wanted to talk, it wasn’t exactly a secret that they despised Leo now. It wasn’t surprising, considering how he’s been behaving towards her. If she tried to defend his actions, Vic would immediately shut her down, “Honey, a real man wouldn’t put the blame on you for what another man did. I don’t wanna hear this shit about how he has a right to feel what he does, yes he does, but that doesn’t mean that he should give you the silent treatment.”

Belch agreed.

Henry had a more volatile approach to it.

And Patrick…. Patrick would smile and walk away.

Y/N sighed as she typed a response to Leo.

**Y/N 1:10 AM:**  where?

**Leo 1:10 AM:**  outside our tour bus.

“Be back later,” she said to no one as she adjusted her shorts and shirt. She slipped out of the bus, without much detection and closed the door silently behind her.

“Where ya sneaking off to princess?”

She turned to see Patrick leaning against the end of the tour bus getting his dick sucked by a guy with blonde hair. He paused, distracted by the question Patrick asked, but he was immediately shoved back onto Patrick’s cock, “Get back to work, bitch, I wasn’t talking to you.”

“What a nice way to talk to him,” Y/N quipped, rolling her eyes.

“He knows what he is,” he smirked, taking a drag from a cigarette as the blonde-haired man’s head proceeded to bob back on forth, “Do you?”

“Fuck off, Hockstetter.”

“Don’t forget your pride, if you have any,” he spat.

“This coming from you,” she shot back as she turned on her heel and stomped away from him, flipping him off as she headed down the street towards Death’s Design’s tour bus.

She groaned to herself, thinking of what Patrick said to her.

What the hell was she doing?

She spotted him as she approached, leaning against the side of the bus with his hands inside his denim jacket. She gulped quietly to herself, feeling both relieved and frustrated, mostly just anxious to get it over with, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he greeted back, void of all emotion.

Y/N pursed her lips as she reached into her pockets and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She picked one out of the pack, and placed it between her lips, tilting the pack towards Leo. He took one and waited patiently as she lit her own lighter and offered him the lighter, “So, you done with the radio silence?”

“Don’t start with the smart-ass comments, Y/N, I want to talk about resolving this, and that’s not gonna work if you’re being an asshole about it,” he said.

Y/N chuckled quietly, “ _I’m_ an asshole?”

“Yeah, you were.”

“How the fuck— _you_  ignored me!”

“You kissed him!”

“ _He_  kissed  _me_ ,” she shot back, her voice rising with her irritation.

“And you fucking had his back instead of mine when shit hit the fan!” he retorted as he towered over her. She felt shivers down her spine, and for a moment, she was small. She wasn’t the strong, powerful woman she had built herself up to be… she was the scared girl in a ratty apartment being talked down to.

Leo, sensing her discomfort, took a deep breath and backed off as he took a drag of his cigarette. He banged his hand against the side of the bus, leaning his head on his arm as he tried to calm himself while Y/N regained her composure.

“Look,” he started again, in a much calmer tone, “I wanted to talk, not yell and fight.”

Y/N glanced down at her feet, her eyes were focused on a solitary tear along the edge of her boot as she took a drag from her cigarette, “Then talk.”

Leo exhaled deeply as he started, “I got on that stage that night to defend you; because Patrick has consistently treated you like you’re just property, like a piece of meat to him to take a bite of when he’s bored. You know it’s true—and you let it happen.”

“I did not—”

“Stop fucking lying, Y/N, I’m not stupid. You kissed him back, and I’m here wondering why the hell would you do that? After everything he does to you? Not to mention, I come on there to pull the son of a bitch off you and there you are, defending him! Do you know how that felt? To see you willing to fight me for him?”

Y/N was afraid to meet his gaze, knowing that if she did, she would see the hurt and disappointment in his eyes. Still, she forced herself to do so, she wasn’t a coward, and right now she had to face the music and deal with the consequences of her actions.

Leo’s eyes were watery, as if he had thought about this repeatedly, “What is it with you and these men that treat you like shit? Don’t you want to break away from that?”

“I—,” she started, but she found herself unable to finish her thought, instead she finished off her cigarette as she tossed the butt on the sidewalk, “What do you want from me?”

Leo scoffed, “I want you to surround yourself with better people, not those fucking assholes who don’t give a damn about you.”

“They care about me.”

“If you think that’s them caring about you then you’re seriously fucked in the—”

Her eyes shot up to him in warning, “What? You think I’m crazy? You think I’m fucked in the head?”

“That’s not what I was—”

“Yes, it fucking was!”

“I’m not attacking you, Y/N! I’m trying to help you!”

“By calling me crazy?” she asked, seething.

“By saying that the people in that band are all fucking lunatics!”

“You’re just saying that because you’re angry and you don’t know them like I do,” she retorted, crossing her arms as he leaned against the bus.

He rubbed his face with his hands in frustration, “You’re right, I don’t know them. But, do you really think you do?”

Her thoughts immediately went to the other night, when Patrick had that conversation with Johnny Ray, sending shivers down her spine.

She gulped quietly as she answered, “I do.”

“And you’re okay with their behavior? With the way Patrick treats you?”

“Of course not,” she answered with a heavy sigh.

It was quiet for a moment as Leo contemplated his words and Y/N tried to calm herself. Their eyes locked momentarily as his lips parted, his brows furrowed as he asked, “Do you even want to make this work?”

Y/N shut her eyes tightly. She wasn’t sure if it was what she wanted, but the more she thought about it, the more she found that Leo was right to feel the way he did, “I do.”

Leo sighed, “Then would you stop fucking fighting me and give me a damn hug?”

She smirked as she instinctively fell into his arms. He pulled her in and held her tightly. She breathed in his scent and was mildly disappointed that it was just cologne. She longed for the smell of cigarettes, liquor, the coppery smell of blood. She quickly shook those thoughts from her head as she pressed a gentle kiss on the line of his jaw, “Does this mean that we’re all good?”

“Kinda,” he answered as he pulled back a few inches and locked his gaze on hers, “Do you really want to work this out?”

“I just said yes, I’ll do what it takes,” she answered.

Leo nodded as he pursed his lips, “Even if that means—would you be willing to leave Mind Failure if it means working things out with me?”

Y/N kept her gaze on Leo, searching for the humor in his joke. But all she found was stoic honesty. Once the reality of what he was asking of her set in, she felt the anger take over as she pulled herself away from his grip, “What—You want me to leave Mind Failure? For  _you_?”

“No, Y/N, I want you to leave Mind Failure for yourself. You will never be respected as long as you’re in that band, and you know it,” he said.

She chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief, “Do you know how hard I’ve worked to be accepted in this band? There’s no fucking way in hell I’m going to leave this band for you, Leo, or anyone else!”

“Is that what you think? That you’re one of them? Open your fucking eyes Y/N! You’re not! They will never accept you or give a damn about you! Look at the way they behave for fucks sake!”

“Oh, and Death’s Design are all a bunch of saints?!”

“We’re fucking angels compared to those fuckers, Y/N, and you know damn well that you will never be part of them,” Leo said as he took small steps toward her, “When they see you, all they see are tits, ass and pussy, all they see are a tool to get them more sales, to get them more crowds, more money. Those fuckers are all greedy assholes, everyone in the music world knows it except for you.”

“And you’re just a jealous son of a bitch that can’t live with the fact that those guys are one million times better than you,” she shot back.

Leo shook his head as he exhaled, “Be that as it may, it doesn’t change that they’re all rotten on the inside. And you will be too if you stay with them.”

“Fuck this shit, I don’t wanna hear it anymore. I’m done talking,” she growled as she pushed past him and stomped across the street, away from him, ignoring his calls.

For a moment, she thought he had crossed the street to follow her, but when she turned the corner onto an empty street, she found that she was alone.

She wasn’t sure where she was going, though she could take her phone out and pinpoint her location, if she wanted to. However, right now she didn’t want to. Right now, she just wanted silence. She wanted peace. She wanted to be left alone with her thoughts as she tried to make sense of what Leo had asked of her; as she tried to make sense why he would even ask that of her.

_How could he?_  She thought, bemused, puzzled and betrayed that he would say those things about her boys, that he would dare try to tell her that she was just a poster girl for more sales.

His words brought back her first meeting with Tristan Roberts and how the first thing he noted was how sales would skyrocket because of her. Because she was a female.

_Is that the only reason why they have me around?_

She found doubt creeping into her mind. Where once she was confident that she as a respected member of the band, she found herself thinking that Leo was seeing the truth. It wasn’t a secret that Vic and Belch implemented the idea of a gang bang into Henry and Patrick so she could be in the band; granted, they said what they had to so she could be allowed in.

But if that’s what it took to bring her in, what was to stop them from kicking her out when she’d outlived her purpose?

_If they really wanted you gone, you would have been gone a long time ago_ , she thought to herself, reminding herself that this bout of self-doubt was only surfacing because of Leo’s words.

Still, she couldn’t help but think that maybe there was truth in them.

She knew the history of the band, she knew how tight knit they were. They were all childhood friends, all of them grew up together in the same small town with the same people. The four of those boys started Mind Failure, though it was mostly Patrick, together.

_She_  was the outsider.

_She_  was the intruder.

Sure, she had grown close to three members and had a mediocre relationship with the fourth, but she was still a stranger to them. There was a comradery, a brotherhood that had formed between those four guys, something she could never understand because she never had it. It was painfully obvious with the secrets they kept amongst themselves and refused to allow her in on.

Though.

It was no different than what she would do herself. Get close, but not close enough to show them the darkest secrets of her past. No one had a right to that, and it would be silly of her to expect trust and truth from them if she hadn’t even provided them that.

Hell, she kept  _her_ past hidden from them.

She told herself it was for a good reason, because these boys wouldn’t understand. As far as she knew, the only one that had a problem with it was her. The boys didn’t give a damn about her past, they made it a point not to ask her. Maybe it was because they didn’t care, but if they didn’t, then how would that explain the things they’ve done for her?

From Vic and Belch having her back from day one to Henry buying her a new guitar. Patrick, however, was the only wild card here that she couldn’t quite place.

The man caused chaos everywhere he went, he sucked the life out of anything and anyone he touched.

She lost track of time; time was the last thing in her mind. Even as her phone vibrated violently in her pocket from messages, notifications and missed calls, she continued to walk and ignore everyone.

She felt so worn down, so alone.

It wasn’t a good thing, or a bad thing. It gave her time to process the amount of stupidity she had experienced hours earlier.

She found herself feeling livid once more, _how dare he? Who the hell does he think he is?_

Shaking, she pulled out her cigarettes and lit one as she struggled to compose herself.

Y/N paused, glancing at her surroundings and realizing that she was in a dark, deserted park. The light breeze in the wind carried a slight chill to it, the swings in the park creaked quietly with the gust as the leaves rustled.

Reluctantly, as she made her way back to the city lights, she pulled out her phone and glanced down, smirking to herself as she saw the boys messaging in the group chat, panicking over her unknown whereabouts.

**Henry B. 2:47 A.M:**  I sware to fuk Y/N if ur stupid ass isn’t here in the next 20 minets im gonna go fuk sum1 up.

**Mastermind 2:47 A.M:**  she was heading off to see Donovan when I last saw her.

**Vic 2:48 A.M:** Are you trying to stir the pot, Hockstetter?

**Mastermind 2:48 A.M:**  if she ends up dead, remember, I call dibs on her corpse.

**Belch 2:48 A.M:**  For fucks sake Pat

**Vic 2:49 A.M:**  What the fuck is wrong with you?

**Henry B. 2:49 A.M:**  im gunna kill Donovan, you with me patty?

**Mastermind 2:49 A.M:**  do I get to fuck her body?

**Henry B. 2:50 A.M:**  NO!

**Mastermind 2:50 A.M:**  … can I fuck donovans body?

**Henry B. 2:51 A.M:**  ………. Ok, but not in front of me you sick fucker, and I get to keep the skull

**Y/N 2:52 A.M:**  No one is fucking anyone’s corpse, I am alive, and I am on my way back.

**Henry B. 2:52 A.M:** Where the fuck r u?

**Y/N 2:52 A.M:**  went for a walk.

**Vic 2:52 A.M:**  and you didn’t think to tell us?!

**Belch 2:53 A.M:**  you need to tell us when you leave Y/N! It’s not safe for a lady to be out alone at night.

**Y/N 2:53 A.M:**  I can take care of myself.

**Mastermind 2:54 A.M:**  so…. Are we still murdering Donovan?

**Vic 2:54 A.M:** NO

**Belch 2:54 A.M:**  no

**Henry B. 2:54 A.M:** yes

**Y/N 2:54 A.M:**  NO! im on my way back, don’t kill anyone in the meantime please. And if I die, please Henry, do not let Hockstetter near my corpse.

**Henry B. 2:55 A.M:**  10-4

**Mastermind 2:55 A.M:**  I WILL FUCK YOUR CORPSE ONE DAY.

**Y/N 2:55 A.M:**  freak

She closed the group chat, smirking to herself at how goofy and protective the boys were. Her smirk was short lived however, as she glanced at the missed calls and text messages from Leo. She didn’t even bother to read through them, knowing full well what the messages contained.

She opened Spotify, pushing her earbuds into her ears as she stuffed her phone back in her pocket and allowed the sounds of Mind Failure to fill her ears as she made her way back to the tour bus.

It was somewhat of a narcissistic thing to do, to listen to the music of the band she was currently in. But she couldn’t help herself. It was beautiful, so well put together and Vic’s vocals coincided with Henry’s so perfectly. Patrick’s technical guitar riffs were melodic and rhythmic, packing a punch in the music itself.

And to think, that maybe, just maybe, she could contribute to the next album. She knew it was false hope, just because Patrick didn’t murder her over her addition to his song didn’t mean he was going to use it. He sure as fuck wasn’t asking her to help him, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to ask her to put her part in the music.

She was a drone, just do what Patrick says and everything would be gravy.

She could live with that, for a while. But eventually, she would need to take part in creating something as opposed to just playing what Patrick told her to. She was an artist, a creator, just like him. She needed to create, otherwise, all of this is for nothing.

Her Spotify playlist had gone through half her song set when she glanced him walking down the street, a cigarette between his fingers as his other hand tapped the side of his leg. From the distance she was in, she could scarcely make out blood on his nose, lips and knuckles. If his shirt wasn’t black, she would guess that it would also be drenched in spots of blood.

_What the hell is it with this guy and fighting?_

Her eyes lingered on his tall, lanky frame as he approached the tour bus and climbed to the top. He took a seat on the smooth surface, lighting a joint or a cigarette and bringing his guitar on his lap as he began to play a riff. He paused, writing something down in the open journal in front of him, and then continuing once more.

Down the street, she glanced towards Death’s Design’s tour bus. She could make out a few shadows standing near the bus, whether they could see her under the dull light of the streetlight was another story.

She shook her head and proceeded across the street towards the bus, the sound of her boots on the pavement filled the air as she approached, hearing the melody of Patrick’s tune drift into the night.

He didn’t even look down at her as she neared when he asked, “You keep any of your self-respect tonight?”

“Since when do you care about self-respect?”

“I don’t, but you do,” he answered, his fingers curled around the fretboard of the guitar as he plucked the strings and played a short piece, frowning as he paused and retuned his guitar.

She sighed heavily, kicking the pavement with the edge of her boots, aware the that slit in the side was growing larger and nastier.

Did she keep any of her dignity? She wasn’t sure.

The man asked her to leave the band, and the fact that she wasn’t sure what to do spoke volumes about her self-respect… would she let him tell her what to do? She was better than that, but if she had to question what she wanted then she was in trouble.

Frustrated, she groaned as she looked back up at him. He wasn’t paying attention to her, his mind was entranced in his music, in his process. He was in his zone. That’s what she admired about Patrick, was that when he wasn’t being an asshole, when he was writing, he was focused. He was full of confidence, and control. He was so sure of himself in his zone.

“Can I join you?” she asked, suddenly regretting the words as soon as they left her mouth.

He paused then, furrowing his brows as he looked down at her. His grey green eyes showed a hint of confusion, a rare feat from Patrick Hockstetter, as his brows furrowed and he took a drag from his joint, “I thought I was the last person you’d want to be around, considering. Aren’t you pissed off, princess?”

Y/N shrugged, “Not as pissed as I am at Leo.”

A sly smile spread across his lips. He bit his bottom lip slightly, patting the spot beside him gently.

She moved around the back, pulling herself on the ladder and climbing up, furrowing her brows at the mess that Patrick created on top of the bus; a grinder, a pipe, a bong, papers scattered everywhere as they were held down by a lighter or a baggie. She saw an acoustic guitar beside him, though it remained untouched as he favored his signature black guitar with white symbols on it (a replacement, she later learned), and his journal lay open with scrawled words and crossed out phrases.

“Is this where the magic happens?”

“It happens where I am, because I am the magic,” he answered as he took a long puff from the joint, “You sure you wanna hang out here princess? I am pretty dangerous, ya know?”

“Please. I’ve gone toe to toe with you Hockstetter, you haven’t scared me off and I still don’t understand what makes you think you will at this point,” she retorted, snatching the joint from his long, skinny, heavily ringed fingers.

“Fair enough,” he said, eyeing her maliciously. He pushed his guitar off his lap and gently laid it beside him as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He brought one to his lips, the jet-black hair that was in a sloppy bun earlier fell out over his eyes as he lit the cigarette, puffing on it as it illuminated his face in an orange glow making him look eerily beautiful as his eyes shined with the light.

He held out the pack to her, and she sucked down the remainder of the joint, putting it out on her tongue and setting the roachie aside for later as she took a cigarette from the pack. She brought it up to her lips and searched for her lighter. In one swift motion, Patrick’s zippo lighter came to life, and he cupped the flame with his hand. He brought the small flame towards the end of her cigarette, eyeing her intensely as he lit her smoke for her.

“Thanks,” she whispered as he hastily snapped the lid shut.

“Trouble in paradise, shug?” he asked, a hint of teasing in his voice.

“No thanks to you,” she spat.

“Maybe your memory is a little off, but I didn’t go with you to see that tool,” he said as he took a drag from his cigarette, “As a matter of fact, I told you not to go.”

“You told me not to forget my pride, you didn’t tell me not to go,” Y/N stated, “There’s a difference.”

Patrick smirked as he threw his legs over the bus, “Read between the lines, princess.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion.

What game was he playing at here?

“It’s easy to blame things on the guy that’s always causing trouble, isn’t it? That’s why you blame me for your troubles with Donovan.”

“You’ve been nasty to him and you’ve disrespected me since day one,” she barked, frustrated that he would dare shrug off any of the blame.

“He acts like a bitch and I treat him like one,” he said simply as he swung his legs over the edge.

“And what about me? You figure you’re gonna treat me like one too?”

“Like I said doll, I treat people the way they act. Make what you will of that, but if you’re looking for an apology, you’re barking up the wrong tree shug,” he addressed, winking at her as he did so.

Y/N sighed, she knew she wasn’t gonna get anywhere with this man. Maybe Leo was right. He would never respect her.

Her eyes fell on his open journal, and she glanced at the lyrics on the page. Her brows crinkled as she tried to make sense of the jumbled thoughts on the paper, and she wondered, if maybe that’s what his mind was like. Just a jumbled mess of wires, words and music; and if she could barely make it out, she wondered what it would be like to live in it.

From what she gathered, Patrick was every girl’s nightmare. A tall, handsome lanky man with a mountain of talent, potential and materialistic things to offer, but in that mind, there was something unsettling. Yet, as disturbing as it was, it drew people to him. Women, men, transgendered, gay, straight, they all flocked to him. The strong. The weak.

It was as if he offered something that they all craved.

He was the embodiment of what it was like to live free.

He offered a dive into the unknown, into the darkness. He encouraged people to come face to face with who they were, not who they wanted to be.

She wondered if maybe that’s why she was resistant towards him. Maybe that’s why he did the things he did to her… maybe…

No.

She was wading in dangerous territory.

Patrick Hockstetter was not a joke. He was not the dark individual with a heart of gold. Even his own band mates were afraid of him. The CEO of the record company was afraid of him.

He was not a project. There was nothing good about Patrick. And the sooner she admitted that to herself the sooner she could get over her desire to be with him.

“Something on your mind, princess?” Patrick probed, his grey green eyes shining with curiosity as he observed her face for emotional cues.

Immediately, she put on a poker face and glanced at the guitars in front of her, “Would it be beneath you to jam out with your rhythm guitarist?”

Patrick tilted his head, knowing full well that she was deflecting his question. She expected him to probe, or to call her out on it the way he did in his manipulative manner. Instead, she was the one that received a shock when he answered, “You’re in Mind Failure now, that makes you worthy to jam with the best. And the best is me.”

Doing her best to hide her excitement, she chuckled as he handed her the acoustic, “Arrogant prick.”

“When you achieve the level of success that I have, you’ve earned the right to call yourself arrogant. I am a god.”

“By whose standards?”

“Mine,” he answered, smiling knowingly, “This is a piece I’m working on, lets see if you can keep up princess.”

Immediately, Patrick’s fingers began flying across the fretboard. It was a beautiful melody, even acoustic without the amp plugged in; it had the potential to be something great. Of course, anything that Patrick made was going to be amazing.

She listened closely to the leads he was playing, her fingers curled around the fretboard and she began to strum along to his leads, immediately filling in the empty spaces in the song that he created. His eyes locked on hers as he tilted his head, almost as if he was in awe.

He continued to play, and she kept up, filling in the empty spaces of the song with her own touch. In that moment, it was just like it was a week ago when they played in the audience.

He stared at her, his eyes locked on her and only her. And she locked her eyes on him. There was no one else in the world, just them. Alone. Together. Nothing else mattered. Not Leo. Not Henry. Not the fans. Not the groupies. Not the managers. Not the money.

Nothing.

Just them and the music that was birthed by them. Their creation. Not Patrick’s. And not hers. It was something they made together, with each other… for each other.

It was as if some outside force was moving them, pushing them to continue. All that was left was the music. It’s all that was, and all that will be left when they’re long dead and gone, buried beneath the ground or scattered to the wind.

Suddenly, Patrick came to an abrupt stop, and with it, she did as well. They paused, their eyes still locked on each other. Their breathing was heavy and intense as they tried to make sense of what just happened to them.

But the strangest thing to happen was the way that Patrick stared at her. His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly agape, his lips trembling slightly as he stared at her suspiciously. His dark brows furrowed, it was almost as if… as if he couldn’t believe that she was real.

It brought a thought to mind, who was Patrick Hockstetter underneath the psychotic behavior?


End file.
